


Burning Sting

by Szeszely



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bartenders, Borussia Dortmund, Boyband, Crack, Developing Relationship, Fanboys - Freeform, First Dates, Fluff, Footy Ficathon, M/M, Making Love, Meet the Family, Office, Romance, Sleepy Cuddles, Summer Vacation, The Ache in Your Legs Footy Ficathon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:30:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 46,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szeszely/pseuds/Szeszely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mats, Marco and Lewy form the famous boyband from Dortmund, the Burning Sting. Mario and Benni are crazy fanboys who are getting on the nerves of poor Jerome who has never had interest in the life of inaccessible stars. But what's gonna happen when the band moves to the boys' town to record their new album?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: http://thesilverwitch.livejournal.com/33981.html?thread=990397#t990397
> 
> I hope you find this okay and have some fun reading it. :)  
> I'm gonna update as soon as possible.
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> Note that this is only a work of fiction and has nothing to do with real life happenings.

 

 

 

 

Jerome had a pretty average morning and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Mr. Löw appeared in front of his desk just as he finished his coffee and dropped down a huge tower of files on top of the morning papers that Jerome couldn’t even leaf through.

“Today, Boateng.” With that he turned on his heels, walked away and shut the door of his office closed with one forceful motion.

This was all normal at Klinsmann and Co., like Mario arriving late every day. Not that Jerome minded the latter – at least he had fifteen minutes of undisturbed work before the lunch break.

When he heard the usual squeaking from the desk next to Löw’s door, Jerome knew the moments of his quiet peace were over. Soon enough the noises were accompanied by embarrassing girly giggles and he decided to put in his earbuds. Unfortunately no rap or any other kind of music can block out the ridiculous face of an overexcited Benedikt Höwedes, who had plopped down behind the other desk in the room that Mr. Löw called their “office”.

“Jerooome!” He could practically feel the voice cutting through his eardrum, but settled on ignoring it as long as possible. Which really didn’t mean much, since seconds later his earbuds were out of his ears and in his colleague’s hands.

“Have you heard it?” Jerome winced. This wasn’t an average day if Benedikt got so loud.

“My ears are working well enough, Benni, no need to shout.”

“Sorry.” The following silence was welcomed by Jerome, but nothing lasts forever.

“But have you heard it, Jerome? You must have, it’s really happening, I can’t even…”

“Benedikt, breathe. Calm down a bit, okay?” Jerome saw the way Benni was struggling to keep his emotions in control and he made a mental eyeroll.

“So tell me. What is it that I should have heard of?” He asked though he was sure it could be in connection with only one thing.

“Mats and Marco and Satan, they are all in here, right in this shitty little town.”

Despite the fact that Jerome would never call his hometown shitty and wanted to argue about the little part as well, he knew the less he spoke, the sooner he could get away.

“They have landed a few hours ago, at least that’s what I suppose from the photo on Instagram and…”

“Benniiii, they did another one!” Mario burst through the door. Jerome groaned and couldn’t help crying out for God or Fate or anybody up there.

“Why, please, why?”

Suddenly the rambled discussion about the pictures stopped and both men were looking at Jerome with wide eyes. He gulped after realising how his momentary weakness might have been interpreted in those two sick minds.

“Don’t tell me you have no idea why they came here?” Mario asked in a threatening voice.

“We have been talking about it since Christmas.” Benedikt added with a slightly hurt expression and Jerome raised his hands in surrender but he knew it was all too late.

“They are recording the songs for the ‘Black Roses from Hell’ and yeah, that will be awesome and…”

So it went on the whole day with occasional pauses when Mr.Löw checked on their work (which appeared to be only Jerome’s when the boss went back into his cave).

 

* * *

 

 

Jerome felt exhausted and his mind completely drained when he finally arrived home and collapsed on the couch. He switched on the TV, because he got used to constant talking that much, and dozed off. The sound of two heavy boots woke him up with a startle and just as he started looking for an effective weapon, the intruder turned on the lights and Jerome got a clear view after a few blinks.

“Basti?”

“Hi.” Okay, that wasn’t Bastian at all. He would have woken Jerome up with a can of water or would just simply sit down on him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, let me remind you that this is my apartment as well.”

“Oh, right. Must have forgotten that.” There were more to blame for that mistake than Jerome’s sleep-addled mind, namely that bastard’s boyfriend.

“Lukas?” When Basti turned bashful at the mention, Jerome sat up straight and sighed.

“Tell me, what happened?”

“Nothing, everything’s fine.” Jerome would have glared at that if he had had the strength. In his current state, he settled on a frustrated sigh.

“Bastian.”

“What?”

“You rarely come here on weekdays and never before midnight, because you and that idiot-“

“Hey!”

“Because your other half can’t spend 24 hours without your dick.”

“It’s not about that.” Jerome shot a knowing look at his flatmate, who turned a little red under it. “It’s _not_.”

“If you say so.”

The following silence between them stretched out until Bastian spoke up.

“How was your day? Did you have some fun at work?”

Aside from the complete nonsense Bastian had asked in the second question, that again wasn’t like him in the least bit. Bastian doesn’t ask about your day. Unless…

“I see now. And my answer is no.”

“But Jerooome, pleeease…” The way the blonde was clinging onto his arm and pouted was so utterly comical that Jerome let out a barking laugh. Basti seemed to be encouraged by it, because he started making promises.

“I swear I will come home every day and do the dishes for a week or something…”

“Lukas will kill you for abandoning him for a whole long week.”

“Lukas will kill me now if you don’t cover for me at the bar, by the way, he can come here and help me with the housework.”

“So you want me to take the bar tonight?” Bastian nodded vigorously.

“That needs a lot more than a week of doing the dishes.”

“Two weeks?” Jerome pretended considering it.

“I will do the laundry as well?” Basti added and Jerome jumped on that. He will have a two weeks holiday for one night. Seemed like a good deal.

“Okay, I will cover your ass this time, but don’t forget to thank me tomorrow.”

Bastian gave him a huge hug and strolled out of the flat, yelling back a quick ‘I’m off to Lukas’”.

 

* * *

 

 

Jerome cursed when the realisation of what he had agreed to hit him like lightning as the first people arrived at the hotel bar where Bastian worked on Fridays and weekends. He used to work there as well when he had been attending to university but shortly after graduation he got his current job and left the counter behind. The place was one of his friends’, Philip’s, who got it as some sort of a graduation gift from his rich father. How lucky he was.

Jerome was quite good at bartending since he had the rare ability of patience. Back then, he thought his personality was a fortune, but not long after he joined Klinsmann and Co. he changed his mind about it.

The first week was still clear in his memory and thinking about it made him grumpy a bit.

 

He was slightly nervous when he stepped through the threshold of his new workplace, afraid of what his colleagues would be like. Mr. Löw showed him around and introduced him to the man Jerome was going to share a so-called office, though it was only a rather small room with two desks in it. Jerome’s ‘roommate’ happened to be Benedikt Höwedes, a gentle and smart blonde, with an admittedly pretty face and a bunch of freckles on it. He and Jerome got along well and became friends in an instant as they found out they had many similar interests.

That evening Jerome had been so happy that when he arrived home to Basti and Lukas making out on his couch he didn’t even bat an eyelid, just told them to be quiet while he was sleeping. His good mood remained until the third morning when he got to know the reason why his other colleagues had given him pitiful looks as Löw assigned him Benni’s  room.

 

“Benniii, I’m back!”

 

 Announced a cheerful singing voice and Jerome looked up just in time to witness one of the most ridiculous guys he had ever seen jumping into Benni’s arms.

 

“Mario! How was it? I bet it was wonderful.” Benedikt said with a wistful smile to which Mario responded with his blinding one.

 

“It was the best day of my life, honestly. Marco was standing there and he was even more gorgeous than usual and his hair, wow, just let’s not get into that, and when he said _your love is the only thing I need_ ….”

 

Jerome was about to stand up and congratulate to the lucky guy for his wedding when he processed the next part of Mario’s babbling and he realised that he was actually speaking about a _concert_ he visited in Dortmund.

 

He was stunned and couldn’t quite decide what to do, he felt like laughing but the seriousness on Benni’s face made him restrain himself. Settled on listening to the conversation, Jerome started to understand Kevin – or douchebag Kevin according to Benni – who patted his shoulder and shook his head in resignation after lunch yesterday. Because yeah, Benedikt himself was an angel straight from heaven, but add music and pair him up with Mario and all hell breaks loose.

 

“Okay, yeah, Marco ruled the show, but what about Mats? Did he play the solo from _Your Venom_?”

 

Benedikt had the dreamiest expression of a fanboy and Jerome honestly considered running into Löw’s office and asking for a new desk, but he decided to put up with it. His decision didn’t turn out to be the wrong one: the boys’ company were pleasant in general despite the periods of complete adoring madness.

 

* * *

 

After the first rush of people and a whole bachelorette group he reached under the counter for a sponge to clear a few glasses, worn-out and ready to kill Bastian with bare hands. Just as he found what he was looking for he heard a cough probably from an impatient costumer. He straightened up with barely hidden annoyance, expecting some already drunk toffs being there only to annoy him, but instead he found a handsome man around his age with impossibly beautiful blue eyes smiling right at him.

Jerome stared for an embarrassingly long minute before he managed to choke out a lucid sentence.

 

“Hi. Uhm. What can I get for you?”

 

The man’s smile turned into a smirk and he leaned closer, just enough to make Jerome’s heart beat faster.

 

_“Give me a piece of paradise.”_

 

Jerome’s mind raced, but the only coherent thought he could make out was ‘Shit, he’s stunning’.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I switched to present tense (and will stick to that from now on), because I found it easier eventually, sorry if that's a bit confusing.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ve heard you had a _wondrous_ night yesterday.”

Jerome pulls back up the covers and buries his face into the pillow, groaning. Apparently the real Bastian is back, cheerful and annoying as fuck.

 

“Don’t hide away.” Bastian’s dulcet voice is like venom at six in the morning. “What’s his name? Did you get his number?”

 

Jerome knows it’s a big mistake, but can’t help himself getting defensive.

 

“Can’t you just sleep or bother someone else?”

 

Bastian laughs.

 

“Nah, I am not tired. And Luki is still asleep.” He stops for a moment, pondering. “I think I really wore him out yesterday.”

 

That’s exactly the kind of information that gets Jerome out of bed and escaping into the shower. His flatmate seems eager to follow him there as well to get what he wants, but Jerome effectively shuts the door into his face.

 

“You will tell me sooner or later anyway.” Jerome hears the last yell before he turns on the faucet and sighs at the first touch of hot water on his skin.

 

His mind wanders back to the previous night, unsure of what to do. Because he _did_ receive a note from the stranger with a phone number and a name – _Lewy_ – on it. Jerome doesn’t want to call him. More precisely, he pretty much wants to call, but afraid of the possibilities that might come after. The only guy he dated – half a year still back in high school - had been five years older than him and the affair didn’t end well. Let’s just say Jerome was really drunk and after _that_ he wasn’t keen on going to swimming pools anymore.

 

Since then he had a few girlfriends and one-night stands, but it struck him during the final year of university that tits and pussies weren’t actually his thing. A handful of times he debated about asking someone out who didn’t seem like the bad sort of bloke, though eventually he always put the mere thought of it aside.

But now, here’s Lewy, all-too-handsome and flirtatious Lewy, whose number Jerome knows already by heart from the uncountable times he looked at it.

 

A loud bang on the door tears him out of his musing and he realises with a snicker that Lukas must have gotten up and feels the urgent need to pee now. Jerome contemplates about making him wait some more, but decides against it when the voices outside get alarmingly high-pitched.

 

The awakened object of Bastian’s affection saves Jerome from further interrogation and gives him the opportunity to leave the apartment without being perturbed again.

 

* * *

 

 

Working has been the escape route for Jerome every time he had trouble getting his mind off of something, so he considers it as a lucky coincidence that some of them have been asked to come in on Saturday as well. Though this time even his established method fails him as the blue eyes that stared at him all night appear in his unstoppable daydreaming over and over again. He makes one last, desperate attempt to ignore the temptation of his phone and turns his attention to the men in his office.

 

He immediately regrets it when he gets a clear view of Mario. Because _what the goddamn hell?_

“You know, I didn’t even know their clothing line sells pullovers of this kind…”

 

Mario has a black sweatshirt on and Kevin is giving him appreciating comments, though that wouldn’t be a problem in itself. It’s the enormous picture of Marco Reus’ face printed on the garment along with a glittering rainbow and the ‘Keep calm and love Marco’ on the back that makes Jerome slightly nauseous.

 

“How much will it cost?” Mario asks with a yearning look. Jerome instinctively looks at Benni and it takes him by surprise when Kevin answers, because he usually tries to stay out of the fanboy stuff.

 

“I assure you it’s the cheapest way to get it and if you pay me in cash before we finish working, you can take it home today.”

 

Jerome smells a rat.

 

“How much exactly?” Mario asks.

 

“95 euros.”

 

Mario’s eyes widen. “I don’t have that much with me at the moment….Only 57.” He says, disappointed.

 

Kevin shoots a calculating glance in Benni’s direction.

 

“Well, in that case I think I can give you a discount, but you need to find somebody who buys another one.”

 

All eyes fall on Benedikt who scratches the back of his neck, hesitating.

 

“I have one with the face of Mats on it.” Kevin adds and Benni sighs.

 

“I don’t know, Mario. Are you sure…”

 

“Benni, just look at this beauty, how can I say no?” Mario interrupts, then the pair gets into an argument about whether they should purchase or not. Jerome uses the occasion to intervene in the business.

 

“Kevin, can I have a word with you?”

 

* * *

 

 

They step outside the room and Jerome closes the door behind himself.

 

“What do you think you are doing?”

 

Kevin shrugs. “Getting easy money and making Mario happy. It’s a fair deal.”

 

Jerome shakes his head. “You are incorrigible. It’s not an official thing, is it?”

 

“No, I customized them myself.” Kevin doesn’t seem to be ashamed or repentant at any excess, smugness pouring off his face.

 

“How much did it actually cost?”

 

“Ten, each.”

 

Jerome shakes his head incredulously.

“Jesus, Kevin. You do realise I won’t let you get money off them, don’t you?”

 

“We can share…”

 

“Just give me the goddamn clothes immediately.”

 

“But Jerome…”

 

“No 'but Jerome'. Consider yourself lucky that I won’t tell them the truth.”

 

Kevin bows his head in defeat, clearly annoyed.

 

“Anything else I should know about?”

 

Kevin shakes his head and they go back in. When Jerome tells the boys that Kevin has just got a call from his friend that the garments have to be taken back because of some misunderstanding and there are no more left, Mario’s face falls like he has heard Christmas is cancelled for a decade.

 

Mr.Löw this time chooses the best moment to come out of his office and call for his assistant, Mario, so all of them can settle back to normal work. After lunch break, Jerome confiscates the pullovers from the douchebag and feels delighted when the idea of giving the Reus-one to Mario on his birthday pops up in his mind.

 

* * *

 

Arriving home he stops by his favourite coffee shop, finds a quiet corner and makes himself comfortable. After an incentive cookie full of chocolate, he pulls out his phone. Taking a deep breath, he dials the number. Following a few rings, it goes to voicemail and Jerome doesn’t know exactly what he is doing when he starts stuttering a message.

 

“Hi, I’m Jer… well, actually the guy from the bar yesterday…Um, the bartender. My name is Jerome. You gave me your number, so I thought, why not? I mean… we can hang out sometime or talk maybe. Uh, I guess that’s it, so…yeah. Call me back whenever you want. Bye.”

 

He throws the phone on the table without care and leans back against the wall with closed eyes. It might be better if the device breaks, then no one has to listen to him anymore being utterly foolish. He wants the ground to swallow him up completely, because hell’s gonna freeze over before Lewy calls back somebody who can’t form a single coherent sentence. Jerome lets himself a few more minutes of sinking into self-pity, then he gets up and walks home.

 

It’s no surprise that he gets neither a message nor a call and he falls asleep thinking about celibacy.

 

The next morning passes uneventful, though it might has something to do with Jerome’s indifferent mood and Bastian’s absence at night. The bastard has already broken his promise, though it’s not the time for Jerome to care.

 

The bolt from the blue comes when Jerome gets home from shopping to a clean apartment with no clothes scattered on the floor, no dirty dishes on the kitchen table and no naked Lukas in any of the rooms. The reason reveals itself when he spots the heap of neatly folded clothes on his bed with a slip of paper on top.

 

 **_“_ ** **_ur bf  was @ the bar yesterday & asked bout  u. Get  ur ass here 2nite. Wear these._ **

**_Ps.: I made the dishes. HaseBasti <3_ ** **_”_ **

 

* * *

 

 

Jerome arrives at the bar itchy from nervousness, so he has a quick drink before finding a stool to sit and wait. He feels the exact moment when Lewy walks through the door. Not that Jerome has any special ability: just the cackling of the teenage girls next to him gets irritatingly loud in a second and he knows the effect from experience. His eyes flicker to the entrance and he blushes a deep red when those cool blues stare back.

 

Jerome pretends to be occupied by his mobile news app until his interest gets close enough to tap his shoulder.

 

“Good to see you again.” Lewy says and Jerome offers a small smile.

 

“It’s good to see you too.”

 

They look at each other in a first tolerable silence which turns awkward when the bartender in charge clears his throat a bit too loudly, signalling to Jerome. But it’s Lewy instead who starts the conversation with asking Jerome to choose a drink. After moving to a table as far from the bar as possible, he offers Jerome his hand.

 

“I didn’t introduce myself properly. Robert Lewandowski.”

 

“Jerome Boateng.”

 

Jerome shakes the warm hand and holds it a bit longer than he feels he should. Lewy seems pleasantly surprised by the name.

 

“I wouldn’t have thought that this was your name, but nevertheless I like it.”

 

Jerome frowns. “My message made it clear that’s my name, didn’t it?”

 

It’s Lewy’s turn to look confused. “What message?”

 

Jerome blushes. Apparently he didn’t even listen to his voice message, which was good on one hand and awful on the other. Because then it’s still ahead of Robert to realise what an idiot Jerome is when it comes to relationships.

 

“I…um, well... I left you a voice message.”

 

“Oh.” Jerome doesn’t understand the wide grin that spreads across his companion’s face, but finds himself smiling along. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I don’t listen to any voice message from unknown numbers.”

 

He wants to ask the reason, but doesn’t want to be nosy, so he lets it go. His breath hitches when Lewy leans closer.

 

“Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” He quickly adds: “To talk and get to know each other.”

 

Jerome smiles and nods. “I know just the place.”

 

They go to Jerome’s favourite 0-24 restaurant and talk for hours about random things and Jerome gets captivated by the looseness and talkativeness of Lewy. They can easily fall into conversation about all kinds of topics, from politics through languages to football.  Jerome learns that Lewy is Polish and moved to Germany when he started university, where he studied Literature. This leads to a long quote-sharing session and discussion about the best contemporary poets. Around midnight Jerome glances at his watch and at his horrified look Lewy suggests they leave and Jerome offers to accompany him back to the hotel.

 

They stand in front of the elevator and Jerome knows he has to go home if he doesn’t want to start the week completely useless. He fears it’s too late already.

 

“We really have to repeat this sometime.” Lewy says and Jerome grins.

 

“Absolutely. I had a great night.”

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

They stand there, content with looking into each other’s eyes until Jerome feels uncomfortable with his incapability of handling the situation.

 

“I think I go now.” He pauses and the elevator arrives just in time. “Good night, Lewy.”

 

He looks at Robert expectantly, who sends a quick look around. When he is sure no one’s in the lobby, he grabs Jerome’s arm, pushes him into the elevator and just as the doors close and Jerome starts protesting, Robert covers his mouth with his own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome finds out who Lewy is.

 

 

Before Jerome can even think about saying no, he finds himself pressed up against the wall of a room with furniture that cost more than a year’s salary at Klinsmann & Co. As much as he likes the way things go, he feels the need to slow down a bit. Pulling away from Lewy he takes a more thorough look at his surroundings and whistles silently as he takes in the sight of the chandelier, the paintings, the carpet and most of all, the king-sized bed.

 

 “Wow. Nice apartment.”

 

Lewy shrugs nonchalantly. “My contract covers it. Now I have something better to look at anyway.” He seems to enjoy the blush on Jerome’s cheeks and raises a hand to swipe his thumb over Jerome’s lips.

 

“What contract?” Jerome tries to keep up the conversation to procrastinate losing his mind, but without much success.

 

Robert gives him a sheepish look. “With the Universal Music Publishing Group.”

 

Jerome wants to ask so much more, but forgets it as Lewy’s hands move to his belt buckle and mouth to his neck. A deep moan escapes him and the evil grin he receives in response makes his blood flowing down and jeans getting tighter.

 

When the belt falls off from Jerome’s waist, Lewy turns them around and walks him back to the bed. They drop on it with their legs tangled and arms around each other, their noses bump together in a frenzy of kissing. Next time Jerome catches himself with his shirt halfway off and a short wave of panic runs through him. He brakes the kiss and grabs Lewy’s wrists to stop his movements.

 

“Would you… would you please turn off the lights?”

 

Lewy looks at him puzzled, hesitating for a second.

 “Of course.”

 

He moves off the bed and Jerome lets out a breath when the darkness encloses them. He can’t see much therefore he jumps a little as cold fingertips brush against his lower stomach.

 

“I didn’t know you are shy.” Lewy whispers and Jerome debates about telling him, but decides it’s too early.

 

Lewy has to win his confidence first, though he snorts at the bitter afterthought that how long this exactly means, since they are already in bed together after a few hours of talking. Robert doesn’t move from where he’s sitting at the edge of the bed and Jerome realises he might think he doesn’t want to continue what they were up to.

 

He entwines their fingers and pulls Lewy close enough to kiss. This time he controls it and makes it slow, but reassuring.

 

“I just don’t think I am ready.” He admits and Lewy replies immediately.

 

“We don’t have to…”

 

“No, I mean…” Jerome knows he’s blushing and feels even gladder for the lack of light. “I haven’t been with a man for years and I have close to none experience at that.”

 

The tension leaves Lewy’s body and not much later he’s straddling Jerome with his hands under Jerome’s shirt, nails scratching slightly as they move upwards.

 

“No problem with me.” He whispers and Jerome’s skin breaks out in goosebumps when his shirt flies across the room. “I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.”

 

With that, Robert slides further down on the bed and Jerome lets out a chuckle before closing his eyes. Lewy’s capable hands make him free of all the remaining garments within a minute and soon wet kisses are pressed to his inner-thigh. Jerome feels embarrassed at how aroused he is, so he reaches and takes hold of one of Lewy’s hands, gripping onto that at the first touch to the part where he mostly needs it. Lewy teases him with gentle moves, not really applying the pressure to satisfy, but enough to make Jerome squirm and buck his hips up.

 

“Relax, baby…” Lewy soothes him, voice full of smugness and delight.

 

Jerome’s laugh shakes and Robert takes pity on him, leaning down and taking him in entirely. The sounds he’s producing make Jerome wonder - until he’s still keeping track - that where the hell he has gotten and how can anything be so great. It doesn’t take much for Jerome to lose it all and release, for the first time into another man’s mouth, because Lewy grips his hips with such force that he’s not able to pull away despite his intentions to do so.

 

Lewy eventually lets go and crawls up the bed, pressed close to Jerome’s side, who lies breathless on the bed, barely able to process logical thoughts.

 

“Holy shit, Lewy… That was great.” He manages and almost regrets it when he hears snickering right next to his ear.

 

“I know, Jerome.”

 

The reply is followed by a light punch at Robert’s shoulder and a few minutes of comfortable silence until Jerome speaks up again.

 

“So. You have a band?”

 

He feels Lewy twitch next to him. “Yeah. With two of my best friends.”

 

“Hm.” Sleepiness creeps up on Jerome, his eyelids are heavy like iron. “What’s the name of it?”

 

The pause after the question confuses him, added to the tension that suddenly rides Lewy’s whole body.

 

“Burning Sting.”

 

It sounds oddly familiar but Jerome - half asleep and not really caring until he feels this warmth by his side - cannot put two and two together.

 

* * *

 

 

Morning comes sooner than wanted and Jerome doesn’t suppress his groan as the first rays of sunshine flash right into his opening eyes. He rolls over and blinks a few times, having no idea where he is. Then it hits him like lightning and he would feel guilty for hooking up with someone he barely knew if it wasn’t that good and pretty much needed. He smiles at the memory, but it disappears after his next thought.

 

“ _Burning Sting._ God, no.” He whispers in utter shock.

 

There can’t be another music band with three members, from Dortmund and with this same absurd choice of a name. This must be some God’s play with him, nothing else, because there are no coincidences like this. He doesn’t even like that band’s music, though he only listened to it during Mario’s impromptu performances that left a lot to be desired. He has seen Marco Reus’ and Hummels’ faces, but never the third one’s…. _Satan_. Lewy must be Satan then and Jerome didn’t get suspicious only because Benni and Mario always referred to him under that name.

 

He looks around and finds no sign of Lewy in the room, so he grabs his things quickly, gets dressed and runs out of the hotel, heading straight home. After taking a shower and putting on fresh clothes he is more of a human and is able to collect his racing thoughts.

 

By the time he gets to his workplace he reaches a conclusion, that this was just a one-night thing, nothing more. How can it be anything else with a star who has more money to spend and opportunity to utilise than the drops in the ocean? The more he thinks about how impossible it is, the more he believes himself and jumps into work like his life depends on it.

 

* * *

 

He courses when he gets home to snoring, because Bastian doesn’t snore, so it only adds to the conclusion that Lukas spends the rest of the day with them. Which means he won’t get any sleep tonight either. Like it wasn’t enough, not long after he has come back from a quick trip to his room, the door flies open and Basti strides in with a foolish grin plastered on his face.

 

“I think you have been laiiid!” He announces way too loudly for Jerome’s liking. “You’re also blushing, you can’t deny it anymore.”

 

“Oh, shut up.” Jerome blurts out, annoyed and tired of everything. Basti just smiles and plops down on the couch.

 

“So, tell me about it.”

 

Jerome shakes his head and throws his arms up.

 

“There’s nothing I should tell you.”

 

“I can wait.”

 

Jerome glares and tries to keep eye contact for a minute, before collapsing next to the blonde, giving up.

 

“How did you know?”

 

“I noticed you didn’t come home last night.” Basti proudly admits.

 

“That’s why Lukas’ clothes are on my bed?”

 

Basti pales. “Oh, sorry. I forgot it.”

 

Jerome waves. “I would have guessed it even if you cleaned up.”

 

Neither of them breaks the silence until Jerome lets it all out.

 

“Okay, you remember the guy, Robert, from the hotel bar? Well, we met yesterday…”

 

“I know, I have been there.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“So, we met and spoke and I took him to that nice restaurant we found when I got the job from Löw. We talked a lot about football and Germany and poetry and too many things to mention and I walked him back to the hotel. He pushed me into the elevator and next thing I knew he was working on my belt buckle.”

 

Bastian nods. “That sounds great, what’s the matter?”

 

Jerome closes his eyes in frustration. “The fucking matter is that he turned out to be a member of the Burning Sting.”

 

The widening of Bastian’s eyes might have even gotten a laugh out of Jerome if he wasn’t feeling that miserable.

 

“That’s the band your colleagues are crazy for, right?”

 

Jerome hums in response and for a while they listen to the soft sounds Lukas is letting out in Basti’s room.

 

“You might say I’m mad, but I think you shouldn’t let it go. I know the difference between the ‘I am up to a great shag with the bartender’ and the ‘it would be great to know him better’ looks. He has genuine interest in you, even if you got to the point a bit early.”

 

It makes sense what Bastian says, but Jerome isn’t sure what to do. Again. After all, he didn’t leave any note when he left in the morning and vaguely remembers not giving Lewy his phone number. Of course there’s the voice message, but he must have deleted it with the others accidentally, since he doesn’t listen to any of them. Musing for some more, Jerome decides to leave it as it is. He had a nearly content life before, so one or two nights won’t change it. He knows he must sleep as well to stay useful at work the next day.

 

He falls asleep thinking about the previous night and those blue eyes, staring at him through the crowds of people.

 

* * *

 

Jerome’s phone beeps on his way to work on Tuesday. He only takes a look at it in his office and his face immediately drains of colour when the screen shows: _Lewy_.

 

_“Bastian explained. You’re not a one-night adventure, Jerome. I wanna get to know you better. Sorry I didn’t tell you about the band. It felt nice, being with someone who didn’t know or didn’t care.”_

The first thought that crossed Jerome’s mind was about murdering a certain Bavarian, but he reads the message and can’t help getting his hopes up. Maybe this time Bastian was right?

**_“It’s ok, I’m sorry too for being an idiot.”_ **

****

_“I wanna make up for it and prove myself. Dinner tomorrow?”_

Jerome debates for thirty minutes before deciding to give Lewy and himself a chance.

**_“Perfect.”_ **


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome's date with Lewy. A bit longer chapter with some background story.

 

 

The more Jerome thinks about the upcoming night, the more nervous he gets. First of all, he has never ever been out with a man he was seriously interested in. Second, Lewy is not a simple guy from the block, he is a famous singer, a star, someone who can never be on the same level with poor mortals like Jerome. Well, maybe it racks his brain way too long and he just hopes they will be able to start with a clean sheet, putting aside their previous night and their differences in lifestyle.

 

Aside from his constant contemplating, the two days flies away quicker than ever and Jerome finds himself in front of his wardrobe, scanning his clothes desperately for something…

 

“…not too boring or too bold, neither plain. Oh, and he said I would need something warm, a coat or a jacket.”

 

Jerome’s self-appointed stylist hums in acknowledgement as he picks out a few colourful and way too loose garments for Jerome’s taste.

 

“Basti. I’m not going to dress up like you.” Jerome says in an irritated voice. “And neither like Lukas.” He adds quickly when Bastian reaches for a red checked shirt.

 

“Do you want me to help, or not?” Basti snaps and Jerome decides to stay quiet, because he has already spent more time with trying different outfits than he would ever admit and he only has half an hour before Lewy arrives to pick him up.

 

Finally, after an agonizingly long silence, Basti clears his throat and Jerome looks up from where he buried his face in his hands. A light blue button-up and a pair of impressively tight dress trousers are laid on his bed, topped with a thick dress coat and the thing that Basti would never in his life leave out from his attire.

 

“Is this okay now? If not, go find that Benni boy or whoever and get him help you, because I’m fed up.”

 

Jerome turns his features into the most regretful look he can manage and nods.

 

“You are my savior, Basti, honestly. I will wear exactly those.” _Well, without the scarf of course_ , he thinks.

 

Bastian’s long face disappears and a gentle smile takes its place. He goes over to Jerome and hugs him tightly.

 

“Be careful, don’t let him hurt you. If he does, tell me and I will gather the boys, superstar or not.”

 

They pull away and Jerome grins with raised eyebrows. “You said you like him.”

 

“That’s true. But I would beat him up if he did something bad to my best flatmate.” Basti replies with a shrug.

 

“I’m your only flatmate, Bastian.”

 

“Oh, right. My point stands anyway.” With that, the blond leaves Jerome alone, letting him collect his courage and get ready for his date.

 

* * *

 

 

The exact moment they planned to meet, Jerome gets a text message that Lewy arrived and waits outside Jerome’s apartment building. With shaking hands, he locks the door of his flat and he’s more skipping than actually walking down the stairs.

 

Lewy’s on the other side of the road, leaning against a wall next to a gorgeous black Yamaha VMAX. He’s wearing a leather jacket with the similar colour and in this moment Jerome would believe without doubt that Lewy deals with Mephisto and the Devil or he is one of those. He doesn’t notice Jerome instantly which gives the opportunity to stare at him for a while. The whole image of ‘I’m a confident and casual guy’ wears off as Lewy nervously glances at his watch and starts fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, biting on his lower lip. Jerome lets out a small chuckle and after a quick look around, he crosses the road. It’s hard not to miss Lewy’s gulping when Jerome finally comes into his sight and the weary simper tugging on his lips.

 

“Hey.” Jerome says, grinning like a fool.

 

“Hey you.” Lewy answers with a wide smile and the remains of Jerome’s previous anxiety fade.

 

“Cool vehicle. I see now why I have to wear this coat.”

 

“I thought you would like it and I didn’t want to borrow Marco’s car for several reasons.”

 

Jerome steps closer and takes the helmet from Lewy’s hands who seems to be frozen to his spot.

 

“You thought right.” He walks over to the motorbike and turns back with a questioning look. “You coming?”

 

Lewy blinks, then strides there with the face of a Chesire cat and they hit the road soon enough. The ride is smooth and surprisingly comfortable on the passenger seat, not to mention their close proximity. Jerome’s arms are around Lewy’s waist, and he sighs happily as the last rays of sunshine warm his back. He’s almost sad when they arrive at the restaurant, but he can’t wait for the dinner. Taking one last wistful look at the motorcycle, he steps through the door that Lewy opens for him.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing that strikes Jerome’s mind that the place has to be pretty expensive and this thought makes him feel slightly ashamed for his choice of restaurant on their first night. He quickly shrugs it off though and lets Lewy help him out of his coat.

 

They are lead to their reserved table which is in an out of sight corner, creating an intimate enough atmosphere for a romantic meal. They sit down and after Lewy orders a Spätburgunder, they take a look at the menu. The waiter takes their orders and there comes the awkward silence Jerome briefed himself before.

 

“So, um. How was your day?” Lewy asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“It was fine. My boss, Mr. Löw announced he would take a two weeks holiday in Thailand, which means we can take a breath from the rush we have been in during the last month. How was yours?”

 

Lewy sighs. “Not so great until I finally set off to pick you up.”

 

“Why? What happened?” Jerome asks, concerned.

 

“Nothing really bad. Just Marco said my lyrics for one of our new songs sucked and I responded that only his voice sucked, so we got in a fight. We apologized later, but the mood wasn’t pleasant at all. Mats was just sitting there, looking out of the window with those sad puppy eyes. I have a foreboding that something is up with him he keeps secret from me, and that was another problem that couldn’t left me alone.”

 

Jerome wants to respond with an advice or something comforting, but their dishes arrive and Lewy looks like he doesn’t want to talk more about it, so Jerome drops the topic. They fall into an easy conversation about neutral things, most of them about their childhood and personal experiences, like holidays. Jerome learns some new facts about the band though, among which he finds the most interesting the fact that the three of them do everything on their own. Mats composes the music and Lewy writes the lyrics, so poetry and stuff come in handy. When he asks about Marco, Lewy breaks into a laugh and says he is the vivid, unbearable and incredibly extravagant heart of the band, who rocks all the shows and does nothing useful in the studio.

 

On the other hand, Lewy seems quite stunned when Jerome tells him about Mario and Benni and their obsession, claiming he doesn’t understand the method of it all. Jerome explains that sometimes it’s better to have somebody to love from afar than facing with the problems and dangers that reality brings. Lewy turns thoughtful for a moment before he speaks up silently and carefully.

 

“This sounds like you speak from experience.”

 

Jerome casts down his eyes and starts drawing patterns on the table.

 

“Remember that I said I hadn’t been with men for years?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Well, there’s a reason for it.” Jerome looks up for reassurance and Lewy offers a gentle smile.

 

“I had a boyfriend back in high school, he was five years older than me and a really bad impression. I had been a straight-A student before we met, then I started ditching classes, failed in the most important subjects and had nothing on my mind but him. If we hadn’t broken up half a year before graduation, I would have never gotten into any university, I think. But thanks God we split up and I haven’t heard a word from him until the end of the final exams.”

 

He takes a breath and Lewy reaches over the table to take hold of his hand. Jerome squeezes before continuing.

 

“But then, right after my last exam day, he turned up at my parents’ door, asking me to let him in. Unfortunately I did and we sat down on the couch to talk. He said he was a fool and wanted me back and the usual stupid promises. I might have been more of an idiot than him, or just helplessly lonely, but I let him take me to a party where he got me drunk. There was a pool outside the house and he dragged me out. Next thing I remember, his tongue was down my throat, hands everywhere and I pushed him off. He slapped me in the face and got back over me, taking off my pants. He was already working on his own belt when I managed somehow to kick at his knee, he collapsed and I ran away from the party.”

 

“Jesus…This was an attempted rape, Jerome…. I… God, what have you done after that?”

 

Jerome just shrugged. “Nothing. I moved to the other side of the city, changed my phone number and stuff, but nothing else.”

 

Lewy shakes his head in disbelief.

 

“Have you ever told this to anyone else?” He asks quietly and Jerome smiles a little.

 

“Only Bastian knows about it and I didn’t plan on telling you. Sorry for… you know, breaking the mood.”

 

“No, no, it’s okay. This was important for me to know, I’m glad you trust me enough to share it.”

 

“It doesn’t affect me now, aside from my uneasiness around pools and my inexperience in real relationships.”

 

“Well, since we are putting everything on the table, I have to admit that I don’t have much experience either.”

 

Lewy blushes and Jerome raises an eyebrow at that, because this wasn’t the impression from last night.

 

“I actually, um, sort-of had a wife.”

 

Now both of Jerome’s eyebrows are up high. _That_ he didn’t expect in the slightest bit.

 

“Wow. How do you mean ‘sort of’?”

 

Lewy is not comfortable to speak about this and realising they’re still holding hands, Jerome strokes his soft skin.

 

“She knew that I preferred men over women and we had an agreement. Until we didn’t find somebody else and I didn’t lie, she covered for me in front of my family and friends and later during official events with the band. It worked out pretty well, until I met with a gay novelist who lived in a happy relationship, out of the closet, yet successful and content. So I decided to take a risk and told Anna I wanted to live a true life. She said she was proud of me and we got divorced a few months ago. The temporary moving to here is part of my starting over.”

 

Jerome has no idea why they are so open with each other, because it took him a year with Bastian to confess these kind of things, despite knowing it clearly that Basti with his not so subtle relationship with Lukas would understand him. He didn’t guess their date would go this way, not that he minded. Quite the contrary, he was almost devastated when it ended and they made the ride back to his apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

Lewy walks him to the entrance and takes his hands in his, pulling them closer to each other.

 

“Tonight had been great, getting to know all these things about you.” He says with taking an unsure step forward, looking straight into Jerome’s eyes. “And Jerome…I really like you.”

 

“I like you too.” Jerome answers, stepping forward and glancing at those desirable lips.

 

“I know it might be hard with my status…” They’re standing so close now, that their noses brush. “…but I … I want you to be my boyfriend.”

 

Jerome lets out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I would mind that.”

 

“Really? I wasn’t sure, because after last night…”

 

Jerome closes the distance between them and gives Lewy a heated kiss. “Just shut up and kiss me.” He says with a grin and Lewy gladly obeys.

 

They make out for what seems like hours and Jerome’s hands wander under Lewy’s shirt to caress the bare skin of his sides. Lewy throws both arms around his neck and just as Jerome’s about to ask him to spend the night, Lewy’s phone beeps. They part and he reads the message, his face falling.

 

“Shit…I’m so sorry, Jerome, I have to go now. It seems like my best buddy has just got dumped and, well, he is the hysteric type. If I don’t scrape him together I’m afraid our hotel will be burnt down. I have to keep him away from the drinks, you know… Marco is not capable of that, he might even encourage it…”

 

Jerome’s disappointed of course, but tries to hide it as Lewy keeps talking.

 

He doesn’t know what kind of person Marco is, but he got a clear enough impression from the stories Mario eagerly shared with them. He remembers one time when Marco has been caught driving without a licence for years and been forced to pay so much that Jerome shivers at the mere thought of it.

 

“So, uhm… I’ll call later, okay?” Lewy says eventually and Jerome nods, before giving him a searing goodbye-kiss.

 

“Be safe.” He calls after the receding Lewy, who winks and gets on his motorbike, disappearing around the corner a second later.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome and Lewy goes to a party [where Benni meets Mats! :) ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to write for a couple of days and since I already had the first half of this, I decided to finish it and post a new chapter today. I hope you enjoy this story. :)

 

 

Jerome’s shocked when he steps into his office and spots Mario stroking Benni’s back with a grieving face. It turns out that it was Mats apparently who broke up with his girlfriend yesterday and the press is already on it, because the pair made a scene.

 

“You should be happy now, Benni. You have green lights!” Mario states, trying to sound cheerful, but Benni just hangs his head.

 

“I’ve seen Mats’ shattered face and I can’t be happy with that in mind. I mean, I only want him to be untroubled. It’s not like we would ever meet in this life.”

 

Jerome wants to say one never knows, but his tongue dies in his mouth. How will he tell the boys about Lewy? They will both go for his throat to get them meet with the other two members of the band which would definitely lead to a disaster and a breakup with Lewy. No, he won’t risk that in the foreseeable future until he has any other choice.

 

* * *

 

 

They go out to their usual place for lunch and Jerome gets a text just as he sits down at their table. He grins when he sees Lewy’s name on the screen.

 

_”party tonight?”_

**_“I don’t really like parties”_ **

****

_“come on, Jerome. u will enjoy it”_

**_“Nope”_ **

****

_“please, I wanna c u dance”_

Trying to imagine himself dance, Jerome laughs into the hand he clasped at his mouth.

**_“Haha only in private”_ **

_“u planning me a surprise, baby? ;)”_

Jerome’s face is burning, but not completely in embarrassment.

**_“Just telling”_ **

_“where r u?”_

**_“Not where I wanna b  :D”_ **

****

**_“Lunch with Benni, Mario & Kevin”_ **

****

_“what a pity. we could have some fun”_

Jerome starts to type they can have fun later and better in his room than at a party, but Mario’s sudden question interrupts him.

 

“Okay, who’s that?”

 

“Huh?” Jerome looks up from his phone with a start.

 

“The girl you’re texting.” Mario says, gesturing at the device in Jerome’s hand.

 

“I bet she’s the pretty waitress from the Italian restaurant.” Kevin adds indifferently as he shoves a huge piece of meat into his mouth.

 

“You’re completely wrong and stop with the guessing.” With a frown, Jerome replies.

 

Kevin waves his fork around and speaks up without swallowing the bite. “Good, she isn’t venturous enough in bed, trust me in this. And she even put on some weight I think.”

 

“You are a prick, Kevin.” Mario states matter-of-factly.

 

“Yeah, but a charming one.” The smug grin they get in response isn’t something they expected, though one can never know with Kevin.   


Mario rolls his eyes and turns back to Jerome. “Back to the point, who did you text with?”

 

“Nobody.” Jerome says quickly as his mind races for an acceptable excuse.

 

“Riiiight, you don’t want to talk about it. She must be special.”

 

“Why do you think that?”    _Why do you think it’s a she?_ He adds in thought, but doesn’t reveal himself yet.

 

“Come on. You had _that_ smile on your face.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Kevin blurts in a pretty useful comment again. “You know, the one that Mario gets when he listens to the latest song of Marco fucking Reus or when he eats the apple-cinnamon pretzel that is _‘just the right measure between sugary and  fruity’_ and I think is a constant part of his wet dreams.”

 

Mario turns a telltale shade of red and snaps at Kevin. “Go fuck off already.”

 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Mario, we all have those fantasies. Once I had a doughnut…”

 

“Geez, Kevin, we are trying to eat lunch. Would you stop sharing your excellent experiences for a minute?”

 

Kevin just shrugs at Mario’s reaction, but eventually shuts his mouth. The rest of the meal is spent without much fuss. Benedikt sniffs occasionally as the three other of them talk about their plans for the weekend, until Kevin gets tired of it.

 

“Benni, you’re pathetic.”

 

Mario glares at Kevin without notable effect.

 

“Do you want to eat those?” Kevin asks Benni, eyeing the meatballs on his plate.

 

Benedikt shakes his head, though Kevin has already reached for the food. Mario stops him with a hard swat on his hand.

 

“Ouch, that hurt.”

 

“Get your own food if you’re still hungry.”

 

“I should have known you want that for yourself, you never stop eating.”

 

“What? Are you accusing me for eating too much, though it was you who wolfed down a whole cattle?” Mario folds his hands across his chest, face turning red.

 

“Sorry Mr. Chipmunk, can I bring you some nuts to chew on?”

 

“Dickhead.”

 

“Lardass.”

 

“I’m never talking to you again.” Mario leans back in his chair, pouting.

 

“Great, I won’t have migraines anymore.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“The feeling’s mutual.”

 

A few minutes pass in dead silence before Mario’s weak voice breaks it.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m not.” Jerome swats the back of Kevin’s head. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry too. You can have my dessert if you want it.”

 

Mario shakes his head with a smile and offers a hand which Kevin takes willingly. Now that everything’s back to normal, they start talking about Löw’s vacation and how much they wish to visit distant places like Thailand, but never have the opportunity.

 

Jerome looks at Benni, who just plays with the food on his plate, a woeful expression plastered on his face, and he has to agree with Kevin that this is pathetic indeed. An idea pops into his mind and sends a text to Lewy.

 

**_“You won, I’m coming. Can I bring someone along?”_ **

****

_“sure, but ur mine 4 the night”_

**_“Of course.”_ **

****

* * *

 

****

They arrive ten minutes late at the club Lewy appointed, and Jerome’s mad enough to chew nails and spit rivets, swearing he will never in the rest of his life drag Benni to a party again. They stand in the line leading to the entrance, but a minute later there’s a hand on Jerome’s shoulder.

 

“Mr. Boateng?”

 

“Yeah?” Jerome turns around to find one of the bouncers by his side.

 

“Please, come with me. I’m instructed by Mr. Lewandowski to bring you to the VIP section as soon as you arrived.”

 

Jerome blinks in surprise, but follows the man, keeping a firm grip on Benni’s bicep as they make their way through the crowd. Soon enough they enter the VIP party where they are left alone by the bar. He scans through the limited amount of people and he spots Lewy in one of the booths.

 

He feels a tinge of jealousy when he sees Lewy has his arms wrapped around another man, but as he gets closer, he realises it’s only Mats Hummels. Jerome’s eyes meet with Robert’s and he cracks a smile as he slides in next to his boyfriend.

 

“I’m glad you came.” Lewy says after a peck on the lips. “Let me introduce you to Mats Hummels in his finest form, already tipsy from a single cocktail.”

 

“Hi.” Mats mutters and turns to his drink.

 

Lewy snickers and waves above his shoulder, giving all his attention to Jerome now. His hands skids up Jerome’s arms to his face and he cups his chin, drawing their mouths closer.

 

“You look pretty good tonight.” Jerome whispers and licks his lips before capturing Lewy’s in a slow kiss. He opens his mouth and Lewy’s tongue slides in to taste him. They play a short fight for dominance, then Jerome pulls away slightly.

 

“Who did you bring?” Lewy buries his face in his neck and asks.

 

Jerome blanches. He forgot… “Benni.”

 

“What?” Lewy sits up straight. “But Mats is here.”

 

They look at each other in shock before turning towards Mats. The problem is that he’s nowhere to be found, obviously he left the booth during their intimate moment.

 

“Shit, they can’t meet, Benni’s gonna go crazy.” Jerome mutters, standing up and pulling Lewy with himself.

 

A squeeze draws his attention back to his boyfriend who’s staring straight ahead.

 

“I think it’s too late.”

 

Jerome follows his gaze and sees Benni standing by the bar, helpless as a kitten up a tree as Mats walks over to him. Still like statues, they watch their friends’ intercourse which mainly consists of questions from Mats and wide-eyed nodding from Benni. Lewy speaks up eventually.

 

“Maybe this isn’t so bad…” Jerome nods at that. “I think we should let them alone and care for our own business.” When Jerome doesn’t turn his gaze away, he adds: “Come on, they’re grown up men in public, nothing bad will happen.”

****

Finally Jerome lets it go and they go back to the booth to enjoy the rest of the night with each other. Hours later Lewy suggest they should go and dance. Jerome refuses even with his tired mind, but Lewy grabs his arm and tugs him to the dance floor.

 

“I can’t dance, Lewy!” Jerome shouts through the noise.

 

“Everyone can, just relax and feel the rhythm.”

 

Jerome shakes his head and Lewy rolls his eyes. He turns Jerome around and puts his hands on his hips.

 

“We will sway together then.” He says and moves Jerome in time with his own movements.

 

Jerome feels the stiffness gradually leave his body and a burning desire starts taking its place as Lewy’s chest presses to his back and his thumbs slides under his waistband. Jerome cranes his neck, reaches over his head to grab Lewy’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss that is not gentle, nor cautious, just hungry. Lewy moans into it and bucks his hips, making his arousal obvious for Jerome, who doesn’t waste more time and drags him into the washroom.

 

Lewy backs him against the nearest wall and kisses him breathless. Jerome whimpers when he undoes their belts and reaches under Jerome’s underwear.

 

“Lewy… Lewy, baby, they can see us here…” He mutters between moans and Lewy groans back a response.

 

“Don’t care.”

 

Lewy pushes down their jeans and Jerome gives up, letting his own hand move to Lewy’s briefs. His fingers close around Robert’s cock and he feels him shudder as he starts jerking him off.

 

“Jesus, Jerome…” Lewy breathes and Jerome closes his eyes as a hand grips him and Lewy’s thumb swipes over his slit.

 

They turn into a moaning, panting mess and minutes later they both reach their orgasms as they kiss in an attempt to suppress their crying out. Their foreheads are pressed together and they are smiling in their post-sex bliss.

 

“I wish we could do it properly in bed again.” Lewy whispers and Jerome chuckles into his ear, lightly squeezing on his waist. They stand there for a couple minutes more before Lewy takes a step back and they adjust themselves. Sharing a last, tender kiss they leave the room hand in hand.

 

* * *

 

 

“Wow. Impressive.” Jerome says when they find Benni and Mats in a booth with Mats draped over Benni’s chest, leaving a pool of drool on his shirt. Judging by the empty glasses on the table, they must have drunk a lot before passing out together.

 

“What do you think: we leave them here or be the good friends we are and save them from a glorious wakeup when the place closes?” Lewy asks with a smirk as Benni lets out a snore.

 

Jerome smiles and reaches for Benni’s arm to gently shake him awake. Lewy simply splashes a glass of water onto Mats’ face, who jolts forward and throws up in the exact same time. Benni mumbles something about giving him his teddy bear back, but Jerome ignores it as they slowly walk out of the building. Bastian has been working that day, so Jerome calls him and he gladly offers a ride. He arrives just as Mats and Lewy comes out of the place and they take their leave after Jerome said goodbye.

 

Surprisingly, Bastian doesn’t ask a single question, though it may have something to do with his state of tiredness. In the apartment Jerome drags Benni to the couch and covers him with a plaid, before moving to his own room.

 

He sends a quick text to Lewy to make sure everything is okay.

****

**_“How’s Mats?”_ **

 

_“he won’t shut up about “Benni from heaven”. thanks, now I have a new problem to deal with”_

**_“:D Good luck babe”_ **

****

_“Marco has just vomited on the carpet”_

_“_ **_But he didn’t even come with us.”_ **

_“no, he’s sick & lies in **my** fucking bed”_

**_“Do you need help? I can come over.”_ **

****

_“no, I can handle it. though a coffee would b gr8 2morrow”_

 

**_“I’ll be there by 10:30?”_ **

 

_“ur my angel. sleep well, Jerome”_

**_“You too.”_ **

****

After a quick shower and an even quicker teeth brushing, Jerome drifts off with the phone in his hand and a smile on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco meets Mario

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter chapter, since as I said, I didn't have time to write more.   
> New perspective, this is from Marco's POV. :)
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos, comments and hits, they always motivate me to go on with this story. :)

 

**Marco's POV**

 

 

“Goddamn fucking shit.”

 

Marco’s feeling like that, so he says it exactly like that. Mornings suck. Especially mornings after puking your guts out. Bloody oysters, Marco’s never eating any again. He lifts his arm from the pillow and tries to reach over the edge of the bed with the least possible effort. It’s useless, his phone is nowhere to be found. Marco needs it though, he has no other source of entertainment he actually enjoys before breakfast. Or lunch, judging by the heat and brightness in the room.

Swinging his legs over the mattress, he stands up with a huge yawn. He sees exactly nothing other than blurred silhouettes and he is not in the mood to bother rubbing his eyes clear.

 

Staggering a few steps forth, he trips over something and curses in variant ways before taking a look at the obnoxious thing. It happens to be his best friend, lying on the floor with a face that tells legends about the previous night. Mats whimpers something that distantly sounds like _stop shouting_ and _I’m dying, Marco don’t leave me alone_ , but his wishes find deaf ears.

 

“That piece of crap has drunk again.” Marco mutters to himself as he makes his way into the bathroom and splashes water on his face.

 

He doesn’t glance at his reflexion in the mirror, there’s no need to confirm how similar he’s now to a lump of shit. At least according to his normally marvellous, astonishing, irresistible, mind-blowing – well, just simply _perfect_ appearance. He contemplates about doing his hair before looking for his phone, but he puts the thought away, deciding that if he stays in the hotel room nobody gets to see it. Mats doesn’t count, he’s too caught up in his own misery.

 

Emerging from the bathroom, Marco starts making a mess of the main room, looking under the chairs, the clothes, Mats’ legs – and finds nothing. Then he remembers something. This isn’t _his_ room, it’s Lewy’s. Now he knows what happened: Lewy got upset that Marco took his bed and thrown up on the carpet, so he stole his phone as a form of revenge, he knows how attached Marco is to the device. Or maybe he just hid it somewhere. Marco’s going to find out sooner or later. Rather sooner, he needs to read the news about himself. Through some struggle to get it out from the pocket of a squirming Mats, Marco seizes Mats’ phone and turns it on.

 

Mats has set himself as background picture. Half-naked. Strange, even Marco wouldn’t do that. After a second of examining the photo, Marco shrugs it off and concludes that maybe Mats has turned into a real man at last, with the acceptable amount of narcissism.

 

He scrolls down the long list of names, looking for his own. Landon, Leila, Mandy, Mar… “Yeah, that’s it, finally.” Marco says as he calls the number without taking a more thorough look at it. He hears no trace of Limp Bizkit’s Break Stuff, so his phone isn’t nearby. There’s no chance he put it into silent mode, he always turns it to full volume, just to annoy his surroundings. He jumps in place when somebody picks it up, but he figures it must be Lewy.

 

“It’s sunny.”

 

That cheerful, in Marco’s point of view way too cheerful voice just makes him annoyed.

 

“Is this your drag queen name, Lewy? Wait, don’t even answer. I inform you that your revenge is lame, come and give back my phone.”

 

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Why the fuck does Lewy pretend to be surprised? Marco won’t get any of that.

“Funny. Get your ass here, now. You don’t want to see me pissed off.”

 

Marco hangs up, satisfied with himself. Lewy must know he’s not kidding, therefore he’s gonna come soon. Mats is scrambling up from his place now, grabbing anything in reaching distance for support. After he reluctantly offers a hand for his friend, Marco thinks over the brief conversation he has just had. Lewy sounded quite off in the phone, his voice was… deeper. Definitely deeper and without that slight Polish accent. But Marco knows it had to be him, because who else would take his phone?

 

He lies down on the bed and dozes off again, jolting back to conscience occasionally when Mats bumps into the cupboard or drops his keys with a loud clink. Later, he doesn’t know how much later exactly, because he has no fucking phone, Marco hears a knock on the door. He has no idea why Lewy’s knocking, but it doesn’t matter if he gives back Marco’s property.

 

“Finally, I thought you would make me wait the entire day just because a litt…” Marco trails off as he opens the door. That’s certainly not Lewy. Maybe he should go visit a doctor, he must be hallucinating. Food poison, right, that’s it.

 

“Hi. I’ve brought this phone back.”

 

His voice is familiar, shit, that’s the guy from the phone call. What was his name again? Sunny, yeah, interesting. _Oh, wow_. Eyebrows. They’re perfect, God, Marco wants to take a closer look. Their shape is so fucking symmetrical and neat that he almost envies that Sunny boy, but the best when the guy smiles, his brows are such a nice contrast to the flash of those white teeth.

Ugh, Marco’s gonna pop a boner, how embarrassing. He coughs and opens the door a little wider, turning to cover what’s possible. He sighs loudly at the realisation that he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, which is getting tighter with every passing second.

 

“Yeah, uhm, come in.”

 

The guy shifts on his feet and casts down his gaze uneasily. Marco wants to say that it’s not helping, but it would make things even more awkward. Mats groans loudly inside, the creek of the mattress indicates he must have collapsed on the bed.

 

“I can come back later, when you, uhm… you know, finished.” Sunny says and Marco wants to die in the spot, because this guy is insanely attractive and he messes it up badly.

 

“No, no, it’s okay, just come in. Do you want a tea or a coffee, perhaps?”

 

Sunny shakes his head, but he steps in with a faint smile. Good, Marco doesn’t think they have any of those drinks and he doesn’t want to call room service. No need for more witnesses of his humiliation. He closes the door and sweeps off his clothes from the couch, pulling on a long T-shirt before facing his guest again.

 

“I’m Mario, by the way.”

 

Marco frowns and shakes the hand Mario offered.

“You said Sunny in the phone.”

 

“I was actually talking about the weather.” Marco is still confused, so Mario explains. “I have a friend, Benni, who met with Mats yesterday in a bar. They drank, well, too much even for me, so they passed out. My other friend, Jerome, mixed up their phones, because they look quite similar. So when you called, I thought it was Benni, asking about the weather as he does usually.”

 

Marco understands everything suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle stick to the right places. He called _Mario_ instead of himself. He smiles widely until the fact occurs to him that he has no clue then where his phone is.

 

“Oh, okay. By the way I’m sorry for what I said in the phone, it wasn’t for you.” Marco stutters and his lips curve up at Mario’s answering grin. “I have to ask something though. Why are you here and not that Benni?”

 

Mario rubs his arm with his hand sheepishly. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you.”

 

Marco’s eyes light up as he leans a tad bit closer. He loves gossiping, especially if it involves Mario whispering into his ear. But the shorter man just shakes his head and says Benni doesn’t want to meet Mats and in case he wants to know more, he has to talk with him.

 

They start up a conversation after that, easily, like they have known each other from their cradles and Marco’s surprised when Mario confesses that he’s a huge fan of his band.

 

“Fans are usually insufferable for more than a quick picture.” He notes and the blush that spreads across Mario’s face is so adorable that Marco’s hands ache to touch it.

 

“I guess we are all just little planets in the big cosmos, looking for our own Sun that can warm up our world.”

 

Marco shoots him a wide-eyed look and can’t stop himself from joining Mario when he breaks into laughter, leaning against the back of the couch.

 

“Sorry, that was actually from one of the books Benni always quotes.”

 

They pick up their conversation where they left off earlier and though Marco’s paying attention with a straight face, he smiles inside at the thought that he will definitely call him Sunny from now on.

 

When Mats stirs into life again as loud as ever, they decide it’s time to go for their own businesses. Marco wants to make sure they meet another time, so he produces a pen from one of the drawers and insists that Mario write his number on Marco’s palm. He walks Mario to the door and they get into an awkward moment again, when Mario offers his hand, but Marco leans in for a hug at the same time. It results in Mario’s fingers digging between his ribs, a coughing fit and a painfully long _“I’m sorry”_ and “ _No, it was me”_ session. When they finally manage to say their goodbyes and the elevator hides Mario, Marco closes the door and leans his head against it.

 

“Fuck.” He says.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome finds out what happened between Benni and Mats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not edited yet, so bear with me if you find mistakes. I hope you still like the story :)
> 
> I just really wanted to post a chapter today, because the Revierderby was great and Marco scored again! :D  
> (I'm also sorry for Wellenreuther and Schalke)

 

 

Jerome wakes up to loud banging on the door of his room. It happened once before and turned out to be Bastian with Lukas in the beginning of something Jerome never wants to witness, so this time he doesn’t get up and check. A minute later the door swings open, making Jerome sit up with his heart in his throat, but fortunately it’s just a pretty confused Mario.

 

“Jerome, what did you do to Benni?”

 

Jerome yawns and rolls over in bed, trying hard to understand what Mario’s referring to.

 

“Why are you asking?”

 

“Benni has just called me and I told him the current state of the weather as usual. And he almost shouted at me, called me strange names and hung up after mentioning a phone or something.”

 

Jerome raises both of his eyebrows, gets out of bed and walks over to Mario. He starts checking Mario’s pupils for signs of drug use, but he snaps his hands away.

 

“I’m serious, what the hell happened?”

 

“I don’t have the faintest idea.” Jerome says, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “But we can ask Benni himself, he’s in the apartment as far as I know.”

 

* * *

 

He is, indeed, curled up in a ball and halfway to falling off the couch. Mario taps his shoulder and Benni stirs, hugging his covers tighter.

 

“Uhm, leave me alone.” He mumbles and groans when Jerome tears the plaid off him.

 

“What do you want?” Benedikt blurts out with only one eye opened.

 

“What happened, Benni? You sounded weird in the phone.” Mario says and Benni sits up, massaging his temples.

 

“I didn’t call you. I have been sleeping, for God’s sake, until you ruined it for me.”

 

“But you did call me, look at this.” Mario shows the screen of his phone and Benni sighs.

 

“Okay, give me my phone, I will check it.” Jerome hands him the device from the kitchen table. Benni turns it on and he shakes his head in disbelief, examining it from outside.

 

“This is not mine, though pretty similar.” Seeing the background, Borussia Dortmund’s flag, Jerome pales.

 

“I think this is Mats Hummels’.”

 

The other two look at him surprised and he explains the circumstances of Benni’s way back from the club, carefully avoiding any mentions of Lewy. This leads to a dozen questions from Mario and a deeply blushed, struggling Benni.

 

“Jesus, Benni, what happened exactly? Have you met Marco as well? Would you introduce me? And, oh my God, how did you and Mats end up cuddling together in a booth?”

 

“We didn’t cuddle.” Jerome snorts and Benni glares at him, before taking a deep breath. ”I know him.”

 

“Literally half of the country knows him, Benni.”

 

“No, I mean, I actually _know_ him.”

 

“Would you please stop beating around the bush and just tell us the story already?” Mario snaps impatiently.

 

Benni sighs and leans back, closing his eyes. “We have been talking for half a year now.”

 

That really catches them off guard, making Jerome choking on his own spit and Mario’s eyes practically popping out of his head. Benni looks up at them cautiously and winces when Mario speaks up in an accusing tone.

 

“What the fuck, Benni… how on earth? And why didn’t you tell us?”

 

Jerome feels kind of guilty, because he neither told them about Lewy and the chances that at least Benni remembers them from last night are close to zero, since his mind was occupied with Mats.

 

“I didn’t know it was him!” Benni whines and Mario sits next to him, his anger turning into curiosity.

 

“You do remember how awful I felt after Lisa broke up with me, right?” Benni says, turning to Mario, who nods.

 

“You made my life miserable as well with your depression.”

 

“Then you showed me this new band you liked and I was fascinated by their music, style and especially Mats. His look, voice and personality… it just happened and I started thinking. Asking questions from myself.”

 

Benni doesn’t look at either of them and Jerome feels like they’re ahead of a big confession that Benni has never let out of himself.

 

“After I had an actual dream about him, I… well, I visited a website for people who had the same issues. So, I discovered things like labels and sexual identity and I found out that I… I am, in fact, bisexual.”

 

Mario puts a hand on Benni’s knee with a small smile.

 

“You could have told us earlier.”

 

“I guess I thought not saying it would make it not being there at all.”

 

“I felt exactly the same. But I got my shit together, came out and now I couldn’t be happier, despite everybody knowing about my preferences. Okay, maybe I could be, if one day I had the opportunity to meet Marco. Anyway, I’m sure Jerome is fine with your thing too.”

 

They both glance at Jerome, who stands there, dumbfounded.

 

“Jerome?” Hearing his own name tears him out of his thoughts.

 

“Sorry, I just… I have to tell you, Benni, that you should be proud of yourself now. And that I share the feelings you have.”

 

“What? You?” Mario asks, gaping, and Jerome nods. “But you didn’t even react when I tried to hit on you during Kevin’s party.” It slips out of his mouth quicker than he raises his hands to cover it.

 

“You tried to hit on _Jerome_?” Benni asks incredulously.

 

“Uhm, yeah, sort of tried to kiss him, wasted like hell.” Mario answers and changes the topic back to Benni’s story, much to Jerome’s relief. “But let’s forget it and get back to how you met with Mats.”

 

“We didn’t meet until yesterday.” Benedikt points out. “I created a profile on an online dating site and he texted me through it under the name of Julian Holthoff. We started talking and the conversations just grew longer day by day. We shared a lot of things with each other and about a month ago I told him how I discovered my attraction to men.”

 

Benni seems more at ease with himself than a couple of minutes ago, but Jerome feels guiltier with every word Benni says. He’s a coward, he knows, but still can’t bring himself to tell them about his relationship.

 

“I told him that it was Mats Hummels who made my heart jump out of my chest for the first time and that I wished he had been real, not just a person the media created for hopeless fans like me. He didn’t send me an answer for a week and I thought I lost him, cursing myself for making horrible mistakes every time I like somebody. Then he asked me out of the blue to send a picture of myself. So I did.”

 

Mario gasps and Jerome feels the need to roll his eyes at Benni’s dreamy expression.

 

“It must have been at least three weeks ago, what happened after that?”

 

“Calm down, Mario, he didn’t reveal himself or anything.” Mario seems disappointed and about to ask something else, but Benni ignores him and goes on with the story.

 

“He told me I was attractive and my smile was lovely and that he really liked me. I replied that I liked him too and we should meet in person. Mats said he had an important period at work and he was sent to another country for negotiations, but we could arrange something when he got back.”

 

If he didn’t know Benni for a year now, Jerome would never believe that one can flash such a lovesick smile only thinking about a person they met on internet.

 

“I waited and I learnt even more personal things about him, like the fact that he had a girlfriend for pretention. The night before the media blew up the story of Mats’ breakup, he texted me that he split up with her. He said he didn’t know what to do, he was afraid she would tell everybody his secret and his life would be shattered to pieces. The next day I was sad because of _him_ and not Mats, I lied to you about it, but he is actually Mats, so it wasn’t really a lie, uhm, it’s a bit confusing.”

 

“How was it last night?” Mario asks with gleaming eyes.

 

“I was standing by the bar and waiting for Jerome to come back from God knows where, when I spotted him. He walked in my direction and looked straight at me, making me almost faint in excitement. I thought it couldn’t be real. He reached me, shook my hand and asked if I was Benedikt Höwedes. I wasn’t able to open my mouth so I just nodded and he started talking about how much it sucks, being a star. It sounded somewhat of an apology and when I got back my tongue, I asked him about it. He took me to one of the booths and told me the truth, ashamed of his cowardice and dishonesty.”

 

“And you made out and now happy together.” Mario chirps with a cheerful clap of his hands, but Benni shakes his head.

 

“I felt like I really lost him, the person I got to know through the website, and I needed to drink. Apparently he would have done anything I wanted to do, so we ended up getting drunk together. I can’t recall more and don’t want to. I have no intention to meet him again.”

 

He finishes and Jerome remembers the mixed up phones.

 

“What about the phones?”

 

Benni shrugs. “I don’t care.”

 

“But Benni, don’t be so stupid, he said he liked you. He apologized and I’m sure he wants to be with you, wants to kiss those silly freckles off your face.” Mario declares and Benni huffs.

 

“He lost his chance. I hate liars.”

 

Both Mario and Jerome try to argue with him, but Benni’s as stubborn as a mule. In the end Mario volunteers for giving back the phone and they look up where Mats stays, since Jerome keeps secret that he knows everything. He slips out of the apartment when Mario starts getting ready and texts Lewy to meet up at the great coffee shop he knows around the corner. Nobody spots his foolish grin when he sees a kissy emoji after the okay he gets as an answer.


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

Lucky for all of them, they have a four-day weekend because it’s Easter, so there’s plenty of time to recover from the party and the happenings.

Coming back to work the first thing out of the ordinary is that none of them bring up the band or any of its members, so the lunch breaks turn into the Kevin Großkreutz Experience show.

Secondly, Benni becomes a complete workaholic, which wouldn’t be a big deal in itself, but his phone starts ringing _all the time_ , driving everyone crazy. Jerome thinks that the caller is a certain Mats Hummels and the vicious look Benni has when he lets the device ring for an eternity confirms the suspicion.

 

Fortunately, Benni buys a new phone after the second day and throws the old one into a bin with an exaggerated gesture. Jerome feels like Benni regrets his hot-headed decision, but he’s too proud to change his attitude. He tries to talk with Benni about it, but when they’re alone and Jerome brings up the topic, he always has an important matter to discuss with somebody on the opposite side of the building.

 

Maybe the strangest of all is Mario’s latest habit. It starts when Jerome arrives to the office on Tuesday and he finds a cup of coffee on his desk and Mario at work _thirty_ minutes earlier than usual. Jerome holds up the cup to examine the writing on it and sees his own name, next to something that has been crossed out several times. He can make out Mario’s name and a heart if he squints, but it might be only his imagination. Walking over to the counter next to Löw’s office, Jerome shows Mario the coffee.

 

“Is this yours?”

 

“Uhm, no, it’s yours. I got it for you actually.” Mario doesn’t meet his eyes, so Jerome knows there’s something else behind the coffee-thing.

 

 When he receives a new one on Wednesday, then another on Thursday, he gets seriously afraid that Mario wants something. Considering he has tried to hit on him once before and knows nothing about Lewy. Jerome decides it’s time for him to investigate what’s going on and manages to drag his boyfriend along.

 

“Don’t you think this is a bit creepy?” Lewy asks as they stand behind the corner, watching the office building’s entrance.

 

Jerome yawns and wishes he didn’t have to get up so early for this. “Perhaps. But I have to find out what Mario’s up to.”

 

Lewy hums and buries his face in the junction of Jerome’s neck, pressing his cold nose against Jerome’s collarbone.

 

“Why don’t we do something else until he arrives, hm?” He says and Jerome feels his lips moving over his skin. “I think he’s not even awake at this horrible hour.”

 

Jerome pats his back absentmindedly and sighs when Lewy bites into his neck.

 

“I’m not a pretzel, go get one if you’re hungry.” He says, but his smile betrays his mock-annoyance and Lewy kisses him. They part just in time to witness a rather conspicuous guy strolling along the street and coming to a stand right next to the entrance.

 

“Jesus, who’s that?” Jerome asks, slightly shocked.

 

Lewy looks over and starts snickering into Jerome’s shoulder. “Marco.”

 

“You mean… Marco Reus?”

 

Lewy nods, head crimson from the suppressed laughter.

 

“Why the hell is he wearing those... _clothes_?”

 

 “You know, Marco is not really playing with a full deck.”

 

Jerome wouldn’t be able to argue, even if he wanted to. Marco’s wearing black sequin pants, a silky silver T-shirt and a colourful whale print jacket, crowned with a Dortmund cap. No need to mention the big, bug-eye sunglasses that freaks the hell out of every passer-by.

 

A few minutes later, just as Jerome starts to give in to Lewy’s nagging and they take a step towards the bakery’s heat, Mario turns up. He has that shit-eating grin on his face which Jerome only saw when the band released a new album and suddenly Jerome notices how much Mario changed in a couple of days.

 

He seems like he emits pure sunshine and he takes even more care of his hair, which is, in fact, a fairly big achievement. They watch as Mario and Marco share a hug and stand a good meter far from each other, shifting and wobbling awkwardly until Marco says something, Mario nods eagerly and they set off in the direction of the nearby cafe.

 

"Mario doesn't even like coffee." Jerome mutters. Surely that's why he receives a cup of it every morning - Mario doesn't want to throw it away. It's still a wonder why he doesn't tell Marco to go somewhere else instead of the coffeeshop, but it might be because Mario's flirting ability makes a good match with Marco's mental capacity. 

 

“Don’t be too disappointed, baby, but Mario seems to be interested in more extravagant guys.” Lewy whispers in his ear, snaking his arms around his waist. “Unlike me.”

 

Jerome smiles, untangles himself from the embrace and pulls his boyfriend towards the freshly baked pastries and bakery products.

 

* * *

 

 

So, it’s like that: his relationship develops well with Lewy and it’s the only thing that keeps Jerome sane among the bunch of children he calls his friends. The two of them meet up every day, either for a morning coffee or a bite for dinner and sometimes they have kissing marathons in hidden corners so long that Jerome’s mouth goes numb. It’s wonderful and Jerome hardly believes how quickly the whole thing happened, but he also wants more. That’s why he’s so glad when Bastian announces he’s not going to be home during the weekend.

 

“I’m taking Lukas to fucking Neuschwanstein.” He growls, looking grumpier than ever and Jerome can’t hold back a chuckle.

 

“Why now? You don’t seem too happy about it.”

 

Bastian shoots him a fierce glare and takes his time answering.

 

“He still claims after two months that my present for Valentine’s Day is ridiculous and laughs at me every time he sees it. I did some research, so I will prove him this time how much I’m capable of.”

 

“What did you give him?” Jerome asks curiously, biting on his lower lip to keep himself from grinning. Bastian blushes and starts packing his suitcase in silence. “Really, what was it?”

 

“A piggy bank with a nice text on it.” Bastian answers with a cough and Jerome bursts out laughing.

 

“I made it myself!” Bastian says, obviously affronted, but it just makes Jerome laughing harder than he thought was possible.

 

“Yeah, Basti, I have absolutely no idea why Lukas laughs at you.” Jerome chokes out, catching his breath. When he’s finally composed again, he glances at Basti, who sits on the edge of the bed and looks miserable.

 

“Hey. I’m sorry.” Jerome says, putting a hand on his shoulder. Basti shakes his head and sighs.

 

“It’s not that.”

 

“Then what’s it?”

 

Basti takes a deep breath before answering Jerome’s question. “I wanted to ask him something important, but he noticed the present and tore it out of my hands. He unwrapped it and laughed so hard that I chickened out.”

 

“Don’t tell me you wanted to propose.” Jerome says with wide eyes and gapes when Basti doesn’t answer immediately.

 

“Well, not exactly. I want to take things slower.”

 

“You’re together for seven years now. I think it’s slow enough.”

 

“High school doesn’t count.” Bastian replies. “I just wanted to ask him to move in together with me. I have… I have even looked for houses with big gardens.”

 

Jerome doesn’t really know what to say about that, so he claps a hand on Bastian’s back and assures him that the odds of Lukas saying no are as low as the chances of Freiburg winning this Bundesliga season. Slipping out of Bastian’s room, Jerome pulls out his phone and texts Lewy.

 

**_“Are you free for the weekend? Bastian’s out of the house ;)”_ **

 

_“4 u? anytime. xo”_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome and Lewy spend Saturday night together.
> 
> Filler chapter. Warning: smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I have relationship issues recently and don't know what's coming up next, so there's a chance I won't update for a while again. 
> 
> (Tell me if I should delete/rewrite this chapter.)

 

 

On Saturday Jerome spends the evening on the couch with Lewy cuddling close to him, tucking his head under Jerome’s chin as they watch an incredibly boring movie. They have been quiet for a while and Jerome thinks his boyfriend has dozed off, taking his peaceful snoring as a convincing sign. He starts stroking Lewy’s hair and temple unconsciously until he gets a contented hum in reply.

 

“Sorry. I woke you up, didn’t I?”

 

Lewy squeezes Jerome’s waist and hums again, burying his face in his boyfriend’s chest.

 

“Go back to sleep if you want, but we can also have dinner. Are you hungry?” Jerome says, chuckling a little when Lewy moves up and bites into his shoulder. “Is that a yes?”

 

“It depends.” Lewy answers with a smirk, though his voice is hoarse and his eyes are still a bit clouded with sleep.

 

“Depends on what?” Jerome asks back and Lewy leans closer, his smirk turning into a grin.

 

“What you give me for dinner.” He whispers, putting a hand on Jerome’s upper thigh.

 

When Lewy’s hand climbs upwards and starts massaging his leg, Jerome tilts his head with a smile and lets Lewy kiss him. Their lips meet gently and seconds later Jerome darts out his tongue, tentatively asking for permission. As Lewy opens his mouth Jerome uses the opportunity to enter and taste the still detectable sweetness from the cookie Lewy ate earlier. Jerome can feel the heaving of Lewy’s chest under his palms and he wonders briefly whether his scent makes Lewy’s head spin just as much as his smell intoxicates Jerome.

 

Lewy slides his hand further up and reaches Jerome’s bulge, palming it through the fabric of the jeans and underwear. Jerome moans and grabs Lewy’s hair to pull him even closer, shivering when Lewy nips on his lower lip. The thought of going at it right in the spot comes up in Jerome’s mind, but before he can really do something about it his stomach decides it’s time to interrupt with loud growling. Lewy pulls away, snickering fondly and pecks Jerome’s forehead.

 

“You’re right, I think we should really grab a bite.” He says and gets up from the couch, looking back after a few steps at his pouting boyfriend. “Come on, Jerome.”

 

“Okay, fine. Let’s eat first.” Jerome mutters and stands up with a sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner would be great with Lewy, Jerome thought when they came back from the city to his apartment, but it was long before he got so turned on. Now, in his current state, dinner is pure torture. He doesn’t even know what he’s eating exactly and what it tastes, as all his senses are directed at his boyfriend, who seems oblivious to the effects he has on Jerome.

 

Lewy prattles something about Marco developing a crush on poor Mario, but Jerome can’t comprehend his words, his eyes are glued to his lips, dropping occasionally to his Adam apple when Lewy swallows a bite of food. When Lewy goes over to the fridge, pulls out ice cream and starts honest to God licking it off a spoon, Jerome gives up on pretending he’s eating. The only thing he can think about is how good it would taste, ice cream plus Lewy, and he has a pretty hard time restraining himself.  He wants so much to go over now and suck bruises into Lewy’s bare neck, just where the collar of his white shirt ends.

 

“Baby, are you okay?” Jerome snaps out of his daydreaming and realises with a blush that he must have been staring for a good five minutes constantly.

 

“Yeah, ‘course.” He manages and has to bite hard on his tongue not to say anything when Lewy shrugs and reaches for a banana.

 

He watches as his boyfriend peels off the fruit’s skin gingerly like it is something precious and takes a slow bite of the tip, sliding his tongue out after swallowing. Jerome glances up at his eyes and freezes. Lewy’s looking straight at him with those amazing blues of his. So he wasn’t really that innocent and oblivious, Jerome realises and jumps up, closing the distance between them in a blink of an eye.

 

“Finally.” Lewy says with a wide, devilish grin and lurches forward to meet with Jerome’s lips.

 

* * *

 

 

Stumbling into Jerome’s room, they are pressed close to each other, attempting to kiss him and pull off T-shirts at the same time. They fall on the bed unceremoniously and when the offending clothes are eventually out of the way, Lewy’s hands are exploring every inch of Jerome’s abdomen while Jerome is working on their trousers. Finally the pants are undone and Jerome pulls them off with swift movements, letting his head fall back to the pillow when Lewy’s hardness bumps into him through the fabric of their briefs. They kiss again and Lewy grinds down before he presses his mouth to Jerome’s ear, blows into it then catches the earlobe between his lips, sucking and nibbling. His hands wander under Jerome’s boxer and stroke his bare skin before getting rid of the last garments that separate them.  Jerome’s breathless sooner than he expected, the smell of Lewy’s lemongrass shampoo and expensive perfume fills his nose and dulls his senses.

 

“Lewy?” He breathes as Lewy slides down and presses kisses to his hipbones.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Jerome’s voice hitches when Lewy takes him into his mouth, but somehow he manages to form his words. “I feel ready.”

 

This takes Lewy aback and he lets go of Jerome with wide eyes. “You mean…?”

 

Chuckling, Jerome cups a hand around Lewy’s skull and nods, staring straight into those blue eyes.

 

“Ok, good, right…” Lewy says and gulps, scanning the room for the things they would need.  “So, how do we do this, how do we do this?”

 

He repeats it at least three times and Jerome’s sure Lewy doesn’t know whether he is coming or going, sitting there ass naked and running a hand through his hair. Jerome laughs at him, changes their positions and gives him a peck before opening the drawer of the bedside table.

 

“I guessed I would be in charge tonight.” He murmurs against Lewy’s lips as he lubes up his fingers.

 

“Sorry, I have never…” Jerome cuts Lewy’s apologies with a long and slow kiss, easing his worries from the lack of experience.

 

“It’s okay, I know.”

He whispers and slides a finger into himself. The first few seconds of awkward fullness keeps Jerome still for a moment, but he gets used to it soon and starts working himself open. Fortunately he expected, moreover he _wanted_ to reach this in their relationship at the weekend and he prepared throughout the week, so he doesn’t have to make Lewy wait for eternity. Lewy watches him intensely and makes Jerome blush before surging upward to crash their lips together.

 

They kiss until Jerome has inserted a second finger and rocked on it for a while, letting out soft moans into Lewy’s mouth. They part and Jerome meets with his boyfriend’s questioning gaze.

 

“Can I?” Lewy asks and Jerome smiles, shoving a condom into his boyfriend’s hand. Lewy puts it on, takes a breath and caresses Jerome’s sides. Jerome pulls his fingers out and has to put a hand on Lewy’s hip when he bucks up.

 

“Hey. We need lube for you as well.” Jerome tells him and applies a generous amount of the liquid onto Lewy’s cock. Lewy squirms helplessly under Jerome, squeezing his arms until Jerome lets go and moves into position.

 

They hold each other’s gaze as Jerome slides down slowly, hissing and moaning every now and then till he manages to take in Lewy’s full length. It hurts a bit, but not so much, just on the edge of discomfort.

 

“Fuck.” Lewy groans when Jerome starts moving, only rocking first then carefully up and down Lewy’s cock until he rides him with force, meeting Lewy’s thrusts.  After a particularly well-aimed one Jerome’s eyes close and he feels all of Lewy’s muscles tense to move. A moment later he finds himself lying on his back with Lewy on top, pounding into him with newly found confidence and making him gasp.

 

Jerome feels he’s close and tries to hold back until Lewy gets there as well, but suddenly Lewy’s fingers circle around his aching dick and start to move up and down, sending shivers through Jerome’s whole body.

 

“Stop, stop, I’m gonna…”  Jerome can’t finish the sentence, because Lewy changes the angle of his thrusts and murmurs the reply into his ear.

 

“That’s the intent, baby.”

 

As a last try, Jerome grabs Lewy’s wrist, but he’s too weak and the hand doesn’t stop jerking him off. He pants, moans and forgets to think, the sound of Lewy’s heaving, the smell of their sweaty skins and Lewy’s touch in, on and around him take Jerome apart. He comes in hot spurts all over their stomachs, body going limp after the waves of pleasure wears off.

 

His eyes flatter halfway open when his breath gets back to normal and catches Lewy’s look. Jerome didn’t even notice that Lewy slid out, but he’s thankful he did. Taking a glance at Lewy’s cock he notices Lewy is still hard and hasn’t come yet, so he reaches down and starts jacking him off.

 

“Oh my god…” Lewy blurts out at the first touch and buries his face in Jerome’s neck.

 

It doesn’t take long for him to lose control, thrusting blindly into Jerome’s grip and muttering incomprehensibly into his skin. Jerome slides his thumb over the tip and picks up the pace, then suddenly Lewy bites down hard on his shoulder and Jerome feels him coming into his hand.

 

Catching his breath, Lewy cups Jerome’s face in his hands and presses an incredibly messy kiss on his mouth.

 

“You are wonderful.” He murmurs and bumps their noses together. Jerome snickers and nips at Lewy’s chin, his arms wrapped firmly around Lewy’s abdomen.

 

They lie there with foreheads pressed together until Jerome gathers his strength to get up and clean them. After that they settle in the bed and Lewy embraces Jerome from behind, tangling their legs together. With Lewy’s lips against his neck and their fingers entwined, Jerome falls asleep in bliss.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco and Mario have a date
> 
> (Sorry for Marco's language ;) )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I was able to write a new chapter, yay!

 

 

**Marco's POV**

 

_“If I had been told two weeks ago that I would have a date with you, I would have laughed at such nonsense.” Mario says with a little laugh._

_“And here we are.” Marco murmurs and Mario nods._

_“Yeah…here we are.”_

_Marco smiles, cupping a hand around Mario’s cute, round, perfect cheek. He leans closer and Mario looks into his eyes from under his long eyelashes, sliding the tip of his tongue over his lips. Marco’s gonna kiss him finally and he gives himself a mental high five. Or a pat on the back. Whatever. The thought of how they are going to look like together – absolutely great – gets a small chuckle out of him and with one last glance at those neat eyebrows, Marco shuts his eyes. He feels Mario’s breath on his lips and the warmth radiating from his body and he closes the distance…_

 

“Care to pay attention?” Lewy claps his hands right in front of Marco’s face, making him so startled that he almost falls off his chair.

 

“Holy fuck, Lewy, was it necessary? I was shitting fucking bricks.”

 

Lewy gives him an unimpressed look before sighing.

 

“It’s important, you need to listen to me.”

 

“What’s so goddamn important?” Marco has been brought back from one of the best daydreams he has had in a while, no surprise that he’s pissed off like hell.

 

Lewy jerks his head in the direction of Mats, who has his face buried in his hands.

 

Marco shrugs, showing no concern for his friend. “What? He has fallen asleep.”

 

Lewy groans. “No, he’s not asleep.”

 

“Oh, so he’s crying over his ex again.” Some people are so pathetic. And they all want the advice of the majestic Marcinho. It’s so tiring, honestly.

“Come on, mate, man up.” Marco adds for Mats and considers the problem solved as far as he’s concerned, but Lewy seems to think another way.

 

“Marco, have you even been with us in the last week? Or have you been sleeping the whole time?” Marco would feel offended if he cared a little. But he doesn’t, so everything’s cool. “Mats is sad, because Benni keeps rejecting him.”

 

Oh yeah, Marco remembers that name, he saw it a couple of times when he walked in on Mats typing into his computer. He knew immediately what kind of relationship Mats was building up with the guy, despite how hard his friend tried to deny it, because Mats had always been obvious.

 

And it wasn’t like Marco didn’t know about Mats’ not-so-straight interests. He has vague memories about one of Mats’ rather gracious moments in wooing, when he asked Marco for the first time (which happened to be the last as well) how to date a guy. The advice he gave is somehow clearer in Marco’s head, since it’s one of the few things he isn’t exactly proud of. Telling his best friend that a blowjob is a good enough starter didn’t turn out to be the best choice he made. But hey, he was totally lit, on no account was Mats’ black eye his fault.  

 

“I’m not surprised. Why would he date with a whiner?” Marco doesn’t mean it as an insult, it’s just the truth. Lewy shoots him a glare though, while Mats remains silent and stands up instead, walks over to the piano and starts playing an incredibly sad tune.

 

Marco listens in silence for a while, until vivid thoughts of jumping out of windows and cutting beautiful red lines into his wrists come up in his mind. He shudders then and turns to Lewy.

 

“I see your point. This is serious.” A hopeful smile flashes across Lewy’s face, but it disappears as soon as Marco opens his mouth again. “Let’s take him to a club.”

 

Lewy scratches his face in frustration. If Marco wanted to be frank with himself, it really was a stupid idea. But Marco has no desire for honesty, who needs self-criticism anyway? He would end up in Mats’ state within a minute if he thought it over, and no fucking thanks.

 

“Do you have anything that’s not garbage in your mind?” Lewy asks, sounding just a tiny little bit upset.

 

Oh, Marco has plenty of that, all involving considerable amounts of money. “Yeah, actually we can make a bet…”

 

“I mean” Lewy cuts Marco off. “any idea to bring Benni and Mats together?”

 

About that, huh. That’s a trickier question, but Marco’s always clever enough to drop in a red herring. “It’s more your place to come up with something than mine.”

 

Lewy gives him a wide-eyed look. “Why would it be?”

 

“You’re the one with a boyfriend, a good 7 at that.”

 

“What? You have rated Jerome?”

 

Always so easy, Lewy, so fucking easy. 

“Why not?”

 

“Have you ranked your precious Mario as well?”

 

Marco grins smugly. “Yeah, he’s over 9 of course.”

 

“Oh, of course, how stupid of me. And surely you are ten out of ten, right?” Lewy says, words dripping with sarcasm.

 

“Nah, only a hair above Sunny.” Literally. Marco’s hair is simply _gorgeous_.

 

“You know, Lewy. Some are blessed with musical ability, others with good looks.*” Marco takes a short pause for the effect.  “And there’s me, gifted with both, plus modesty.”

 

Lewy imitates retching sounds and Marco’s as bumptious as ever. “You wish, Marco.”

 

Before they can go on with their completely useless conversation, the loud sound of a certain somebody dropping his head on the piano keys makes them freeze. Lewy is the first to break the silence with a cautious question.

 

“Mats? Are you okay?”

 

Mats glances up with clouded eyes, his face drained of colour and he looks totally distraught. But the worst is his voice nonetheless, making the hair on the back of Marco’s neck stand on end.

“I’ve missed the boat and now I’m sinking in the bottomless ocean of loneliness, drowning in my guilt…”

 

Geez, that’s enough. “Ugh, sorry Lewy, I gotta go now…” Marco stands up and makes a beeline for the door.

 

“Hey, you cannot leave me on my own right now!”

 

“It’s gonna be okay, I trust you to deal with…this.” Marco turns back for a second, gesturing in the direction of Mats, then runs out of the room accompanied by Lewy’s yelling.

 

“Marco, you piece of shit, come back!”

 

* * *

 

 

Marco doesn’t want to be bothered by all the stupid people, but he doesn’t want Mario to feel uncomfortable alone with him either, so he buys only half of the available movie tickets. He wears his usual bug-eye shades, not that he likes them so much, but they’re good enough to keep the fans at bay and he also kinda thinks it’s cool to dress up weirdly.

 

Finding a large couch close to the movie entrance, Marco plops down and spreads across it leisurely. Well, he just hopes that at least he looks easy-going, because suddenly all of his insides have decided to play some sort of wrestling game with each other and his lunch doesn’t really like it. He’s not nervous, is he? Hell, he has never been nervous ever since he can remember, not even when he had to play the main role in a high school drama and he learnt none of his lines. The spectators enjoyed the show more like that in Marco’s opinion, even though his hyena of a teacher thought otherwise.

 

So, about the date night. Of course it was Marco who asked out Mario, but the whole ‘let’s go watch a movie together’ idea had nothing to do with him – for which he was quite embarrassed, because he had been thinking all the time about semi-public date plans without success. Just as he decided on giving no fucks about paparazzi bullshit and went to choose an expensive gallery opening, Mario texted him that there was a movie. A movie which he really-immensely-ever so particularly wanted to see, but going to the cinema alone is worse than watching Mr. Löw picking his nose. Marco can’t and doesn’t want to compare the two things, ever. Nevertheless, a blind man may perchance hit the mark and Marco’s not even a blind man, so he gladly offers to keep Mario company.

 

Marco glances up in time to see Mario further away checking himself in one of the show windows and he looks so freaking cute with his tongue sticking out in concentration that Marco immediately forgets about fame, nervousness and anything else that might have occupied his mind. He jumps up and gambols over to his cutie pie, throwing his arms around him affectionately.

 

“What… Oh, it’s you. Uhm. Is everything…alright?”

 

Mario truly seems shocked and Marco realises they are not really on these terms yet, so he drops his arms and scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

 

“Yeah, sure. It’s just. Good to see you again.”

 

“We met less than 24 hours ago.” Mario says, raising his eyebrows disbelievingly, but his blush gives away that he wouldn’t really mind to be hugged like that every time they meet.

 

Marco shrugs sheepishly and they take in each other’s clothes for a couple of seconds before averting their gazes, shifting on their legs uneasily. Eventually Marco suggests they go in and watch the trailers shown before the movie and they set off a few steps away from each other. When they pass the popcorn vendors and Marco catches Mario’s wistful look, he realises with a start what a jerk of a date he was, not thinking about the unmissable movie popcorn. He would deserve a punch for that, but huh, luckily he realised it soon enough to correct that mistake.

 

“Sunny, do you want some popcorn?” He asks and Mario’s face positively lights up for a moment before it falls again.

 

Marco cannot put a finger on that sudden change of mood, but it’s not what matters now. The important thing is that Mario definitely wants something and Marco would rather be a nun in an Italian monastery than denying it from him. So they stroll over to the counters and Marco’s not shy to buy the biggest possible batch of popcorn, two bottles of coke and a pack of colourful sweets Mario ogled for a while.

 

They make it inside the auditorium right at the start of their movie - about which Marco cares close to none - and take their seats in the last row. Marco happily sighs at the lack of other people, giving another compliment for himself in mind. The film goes on and he thinks about possible reasons to grab Mario’s hand, but he can come up with nothing, because this movie is so goddamn boring that he has no chance to use anything. There’s no action or scary scene, neither a touching romantic moment when he can lean over just a little. He really doesn’t ask for much – only a small push so that it wouldn’t look as awkward as his previous hugging outburst. But no, it’s Marco’ fate and of fucking course nothing happens. At least until Mario pipes up beside him.

 

“Can you by any chance give me a ride…”

 

Marco can’t believe his ears and cuts Mario off with the first words he thinks of. “Hell yeah, that would be awesome.”

 

“…to my apartment?” Mario finishes anyway and Marco wants to cry out in misery.

 

Mario didn’t mean it like _that._ He has been speaking about their way back home, and shit, Marco still doesn’t have his license.

 

“Uhm, actually I thought I would walk a bit instead so I left the car in the hotel’s parking lot.”

 

Mario doesn’t seem to be bothered by it and Marco agrees to walk him home after the movie without hesitation. Just as they are about to settle back in their seats, a huge snake-mutant creation whatsoever bursts out of nowhere to kill all the people in the film and Marco flinches with his heart jumping out of him straight to the first row of seats. It all worth it though, when his hearing comes back and Mario’s laugh fills his ears.

 

“Relax, Marco. Just hold my hand if it’s too scary for your poor little soul.” Mario mocks and Marco glares at him, but after they both turn back to the screen he does take Mario’s hand with a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

“If I had been told two weeks ago that I would have a date with you, I would have laughed at such nonsense.”

Mario laughs as they stand at the bus stop nearby Mario’s apartment building. They are close enough that if Marco moves his arms an inch, the tips of their fingers brush.

 

“And here we are.”

 

Just as Marco imagined it. Okay, maybe there were more glowing candles in a fancy restaurant and less cigarette stubs thrown all over the ground, but who cares about the details.

 

“Yeah…here we are.”

Both of them look over at the road, pretending to wait for Marco’s ride (Lewy with the Aston Martin). Marco curses inwardly, because why the hell couldn’t he have the balls to kiss Mario? It went so much smoother in his dreams and planned scenarios, it happened as fast as lightning. Mario shudders next to him and Marco can practically hear his teeth chatter from the cold. It’s not like the temperature is below freezing, but Mario has no sweater on under his thin jacket. Marco reaches for his bare hands instinctively and raises them up to his mouth, blowing warm air on Mario’s fingers before rubbing his palms around them. Mario sniffs a little and Marco can’t hold back a comment, no matter how hard he tries.

 

“You’re so adorable right now.” He murmurs with his trademark crooked smile and Mario glances up.

 

They stare into each other’s eyes and Mario looks so vulnerable and precious, leaning into the warmth of their entwined hands that Marco gets it finally. This is the moment. He leans in and Mario’s eyelashes flutter before he lets his eyes close completely and Marco follows his lead. And then there’s light, flashing, bright light, that shines through their eyelids and into their minds. Literally.

 

“Hey, lovebirds, it’s time to say goodbye, I’m not gonna wait for long.” Lewy yells at them from behind the car’s wheel.

Marco sees red and wants to dig a hole with his nails in the asphalt to bury himself – no, to bury Lewy, _then_ himself into it.

 

“You’re as good with timing as ever.” He grumbles and doesn’t care a bit that he’s an ungrateful bastard, because he has missed his chance, _again._ He turns back to Mario, who seems just as upset as he is.

 

“Sorry, Sunny. We will meet up during the week, right?”

 

Mario nods and grabs his elbow when Marco takes a step towards the car.

 

“You forgot something.” He says and he’s all over Marco before he can even comprehend what’s happening.

 

They kiss and it’s messy and awkward and over-enthusiastic, but it fucking blows Marco’s mind. It ends too soon though and when Marco opens his eyes Mario has already run away towards the building’s entrance.

 

“Fuck.” Marco mutters and feels as though history has repeated itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sir Roger Moore
> 
> All thoughts and suggestions are appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get an insight into the mind of the one and only Benedikt Höwedes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really satisfied with this chapter, but still hope you can enjoy it somewhat. Feel free to tell me what you think. :)

 

 

**Benni's POV**

 

Benni steps out of the elevator just in time to see Mario taking an enormous bite out of a chocolate filled doughnut. He rolls his eyes and quickly passes the counter, trying to reach his desk as soon as possible to hide behind a tower of folders and avoid all human contact for the rest of the morning. He is not in the mood for pleasantries, just wants to hide in a cave and not to see the daylight again. He’s going to have the beard for that in no time, judging by the stubble he has after a week spent completely without shaving.

 

He hears muffled noises from behind that sound distinctly as ‘Benni’, so he turns with an exaggerated sigh and watches as Mario struggles with talking and swallowing his bite in the same time. He makes gestures with his hands as if to sign for Benni to go closer and his attempts are so pitiable that Kevin is already rolling over on the floor, cackling like the idiot he is. That douchebag really has a low threshold of humour, but Benni has to admit he feels like laughing too. He won’t give in, of course – a grumpy day is not called like that for nothing. Eventually Mario gets rid of the food aside from the smear in the corner of his mouth and speaks up excitedly.

 

“Benni, you have to see this.”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Come on, it’s about the new album.” Well, then he should definitely not see it.

 

Benni tries to set Mario’s computer on fire by staring at it, not moving an inch until Mario grabs his arm and tugs him closer. What he sees makes his heart jump and gives butterflies in his stomach. It’s a video from the Burning Sting’s official youtube channel and the title is ‘Unforgiven’.

 

In the first few minutes Satan speaks about the album release and some other facts none of them really care about and then the camera turns. There’s Mats, sitting by a piano and Benni has to supress a shy, he’s so attractive in that navy blue shirt.

 

_“I have a message for someone I care about a lot, but managed to hurt in the stupidest way possible.”_ He says and Benni gets self-conscious in a second. This video is a message surely for him and he’s curious despite his efforts not to be.

 

_“I’m so sorry for not telling you in time. I just want you to see the feelings I have for you and hope that the words in my mind come across to you when I tell them in the language I speak the best.”_

 

With that, Mats turns to the piano and starts playing. And Benni feels like falling in love for the second time for somebody he only ever met once in person and wanted desperately to get out of his mind. But God, Mats doesn’t make that easy for him. It’s not like Benni doesn’t want to be with him, it’s just him being realistic. Because nothing can last for long between a talented, famous musician and a boring, stiff office worker. So Benni has decided to avoid the catastrophe of a later breakup and settled for nipping his emotions in the bud. A miserable failure of course.

 

Mats plays for minutes and Benni recognises parts of some songs he has mentioned he liked when they were still on speaking terms and he realises those are all about love that Mats has picked out. It’s just too much for him to handle and he rushes into his room with a painful expression, leaving a stunned Mario behind. He opens the office’s door in hopes for a place where he can think everything over in undisturbed peace, but how wrong he is.

 

There are roses everywhere. All over the tables, on the chairs, in the old vase on the windowsill, amongst his pens, some of them are sticking out of a drawer and there is a big bunch in bouquets on the ground. It’s unbelievable and Benni just stands there frozen for a minute, before running into one of the washrooms.

Once behind a locked door, he lets everything out and a few tears spill into his hands, half from frustration and half from bewilderment.

 

He kind of hoped Mats would forget him soon and when nothing happened after he changed his number, he thought that was it. Sadly, it made him wretched and not happy as he had previously thought so and started to take its toll on his sleep. And then this. The message and the roses and Benni can’t believe himself because…. What he feels is a lot like love and nothing is scarier than admitting it. When there’s love, usually someone gets hurt, either in the beginning or in the end and Benni isn’t sure if he can take more of that after Lisa. But are there any way back from here?

 

He stays in there for the longest time ever, but after washing his face with cold water and adjusting his clothes, he feels composed enough to get out. Emerging from the toilet, he bumps into Jerome and receives a load of concerned questions and an advice to call in sick and go home, because he really looks terrible with a red nose and bloodshot eyes. Benni decides to follow that advice, since he doesn’t feel like he will be able to work in foreseeable time.

 

* * *

 

 

The elevator refuses to work in his apartment building again, so Benni has to drag himself up the stairs straight to the top, because where else would he buy a flat? Of course not on ground level, that would make things too easy. After he finally reaches his front door and manages to unlock it after dropping the keys twice, Benni hears somebody clearing his throat behind him. He turns and comes face to face with the man of his dreams.

 

“Mats?”

 

“Hi Benni.” The greeting is quiet and sounds a little surprised, indicating that Mats didn’t count on him arriving home this early.

 

“What… what the hell are you doing here? And how do you know my address?” He asks and curses inwardly when his voice wavers.

 

“I have my sources, but that doesn’t matter now.” Mats says with a small wave of his hand as he climbs up the last few stairs. “I’m here with a broken heart, ready to give up all my dignity if that’s what it takes to get your trust back. I beg you to forgive me. Do you think it is too much to ask?”

 

_No, it isn’t._ “I hate liars and you lied.”

 

“You’re not allowed to hate me . . . because I’m not going to let you.”

 

Mats voice is firm and definite and the mere manliness of it not just knocks the reply out of Benni’s mouth, but makes him half-hard too in a second. Which is quite distracting when he tries to put up a fight and keep himself to what he decided.

 

“Listen. I know that I’m not the best guy in the world, but ever since I got to know you I’m trying to be better and anyway… nobody said I had to be as perfect as you.”

 

“I’m not perfect.” Benni says and tries to will his blush away.

 

“You are, Benni, believe me. Smart, kind, exciting and so freaking beautiful.”

 

“But balding.”

 

“My God, Benedikt. With or without hair I don’t think I will ever find someone like you. You can even wear a Schalke blue wig and still look stunning.” 

 

Benni has no reply, because if Mats really means all that… than he doesn’t know, he might just die from happiness. When he remains quiet, Mats comes closer and makes Benni back away until he is cornered next to the front door.

 

 “Do you remember what I wrote you before we met at the party? That you are the silver lining in the storm that’s my life.” Mats whispers and his eyes are gleaming with anticipation.

 

“How can I not? It was the last time we...” Benni says with a small smile, but it disappears as he trails off. Mats takes one more step forward and his breath ghosts over Benni’s face as he starts speaking.

 

“I really meant it. It’s true that I lied about my name and my job, but never about my feelings and thoughts. And I will never do that again, I promise.” It sounds honest and practically takes the remaining wind out of Benni’s sails. “Please forgive me, Benni.”

 

Benni doesn’t think, doesn’t hear, doesn’t keep composure anymore. He falls into Mats’ arms and gets wrapped up in a tight grip of happiness.

 

“I was such a fool.” He mumbles into Mats’ chest and new tears are welling up in his eyes as he sniffs into the soft material of Mats’ hoodie.

 

“We both were.”

 

Benni squeezes a little and Mats pulls back only to cup his hands around Benni’s face and kiss away a tiny teardrop from the corner of Benni’s eye. He buries his face in the crook of Benni’s neck after that and a minute later Benni would swear he feels wetness against his skin. They stay like that in silence for a while, Benni’s fingers buried in Mats’ hair and stroking his neck and Mats’ arms around his waist holding him close.

 

It’s Benni, who eventually suggests they go in and have a drink. Before he can reach for the door handle though, Mats grabs his hands and keeps him in place. They stare into each other’s eyes and Benni’s heart misses a beat when Mats’ glances down at his lips. Mats leans in, but a thought crosses Benni’s mind and he pulls away.

 

He gets a wide-eyed look, hurt and confusion written in Mats’ expression.

 

 “But… you looked like you wanted to kiss me.” 

He says, pouting, and Benni laughs a little.

 

 

“I do want a kiss.” Mats frowns and Benni explains. “But there are cameras here, you know.”

 

He doesn’t expect the blinding smile that spreads across Mats’ face, not that he minds.

 

“Don’t give a shit about them.” Mats says and closes the distance before Benni can protest or even think.

 

Their kiss is soft as a feather’s touch and Benni melts into it like he is a block of ice under the rays of the sun, clinging to Mats, the only solid thing in a dizzy, swaying world. This is the most honest, truthful moment they’ve ever shared and Benni savours every part of it, imprinting their gentle touches eternally into his memory. Mats’ insistent mouth parts his quivering lips, sending wild trembles along his spine and evoking sensations Benni has never known he is capable of feeling. His senses are filled with Mats’ scent and the taste of peppermint mixed with something sweeter and it feels like coming home.       


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benni recalls his time with Mats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to add a whole chapter from Jerome's POV today, but then I've read the news and I was no more in the mood to post my intended jokes.
> 
> All of you must have heard about the plane crash by now. There have been 150 people on the Airbus, amongst them two little babys and a complete high school class. 67 of the passengers have been German. Nobody survived.
> 
> I don't know how you feel about the catastrophe, but I have been shaken.   
> I hope you don't mind what I've done here with this chapter.

  
  
**Benni's POV**  
  
  
  
Benni lies on his bed and lets out a deep breath as he thinks over the whirlwind that rushed  through him when Mats Hummels stepped into his life and soon enough into his heart as well. He has no idea how this _thing_ will work out between them, but he has been told enough times he should seize the day. The book he started reading a few weeks ago has been tossed onto the bedside table and he beams as he picks it up.

 

_As soon as they were in the privacy of Benni’s flat, Mats went straight towards one of the bookshelves and that made Benni’s heart flutter. Books were amongst his most prized possessions, it didn’t matter if he had already read them or not, they all meant something special to him. Just like the person who was stroking that collection with his glance._

_“What are you reading now?” Mats asked, turning around, and Benni pointed at the heavy copy that lied on the coffee table in its original dusty cover._

_He watched from nearby the door as Mats walked over to the couch and sat down; waiting for Benni to join him, which he gladly did in the blink of an eye._

_“Can I?”_

_Benni gestured his approval and Mats picked the book up with careful hands. He caressed its spine, the golden words on the fading brown paper, and Benni knew they felt the same timeless wisdom and old-world charm radiating from the sheets. The silence was relishing while Mats read a couple of pages and Benni loved every serene moment of watching the expressions change on the face of his – love?_

_“Do you like it?” He asked eventually and the lack of reply was a good enough answer in itself._

_Benni smiled and after a moment of hesitation, he raised his hands and placed them on top of Mats’ arm. He slid one of them down, drawing circles with his thumb into the bare skin of Mats’ wrist._

_When he looked up, Mats eyes were so intense they resembled glowing coals as he dropped the book down and reached out to cradle Benni into his arms. Benni felt like he was melting and as long as he got to see that heated look again he wouldn’t have minded to be nothing more than a puddle on the floor._

 

_He ran his hands through Mats’ curly locks and felt lightheaded at the thought that he was allowed to do this every single time he wanted. Mats had already said when they were outside that Benni would get tired of the obsession one day, but it was such nonsense. How could he ever, when his own hair was like straw that was getting closer to a cuckoo’s nest?_

_Mats pulled him close and nuzzled into the little hollow above his collarbone, the rough masculine feel of his stubbly face made Benedikt shiver. He couldn’t recall anything like this sensation of being protected. It was strange for someone who only knew the touch of sleek skin on delicate curves._

_He grabbed the shirt on either side of Mats and turned, giving him access to his lips. They kissed like it was an established habit and maybe it really was in their minds. As Mats moved onto Benni’s neck to print rosy marks there, Benni’s fingers inched farther along the smoothness of Mats’ sides. Deeper. Lower. When they reached the trousers Mats couldn’t suppress his gasp of anticipation._

_“Benedikt…”_

_“Hush now.” Benni said and covered Mats’ lips once again with his own, the fingers staying in place with only their tips under the fabric._

Benni raises a hand and touches the point on his neck where he can still feel Mats’ mouth pressed against him. He has checked it in the mirror and the hickey is barely there, but it’s still comforting that he feels it. A neighbour must have parked his car in the street as the sound of a door shutting echoes between the buildings.

 

_Benni insisted on walking Mats to his car and when he slid behind the steering wheel, he let his hand trace Mats’ cheek and linger by his ear. It had gotten dark enough that a star could act like any average person madly in love and Mats sank into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment with a hum. He pressed a kiss to Benni’s palm and turned on the engine._

_“Have sweet dreams tonight, Benni. We will meet tomorrow.”_

_Benni said goodnight and stared after the receding spot of light until it disappeared completely. He whispered something he wished for into the darkness._

_“Be safe.”_


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening with Jerome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback, I can't believe this work has got over 200 kudos and 3000 hits. These things always encourage me to keep on writing. :) <3
> 
> I was too tired to change a lot on this chapter, so it's practically the draft. I hope you don't find it bad though. :)
> 
> It's international break, I'm so happy now! All of my favourites together, playing beautiful football in their gorgeous blue Adidas kits... The game against Australia wasn't the best, but it was just a friendly and Lukas scored (No.3 German top scorer with that) and Marco as well. :)

 

 

_“just finished @ studio. coming 2 ur apt in 1h”_

_“baby?”_

_“candy button!”_

_“get your gorgeous self out of bed”_

_“for me :3”_

_“FINE! have ur beauty sleep”_

_“u dont need it tho”_

_“call me once ur up”_

_“ <3“_

 

Those are the texts Jerome has woken up to from his post-work slumber and they make him want to conquer the world. Ok, maybe not the whole world, but at least the little segment that’s his apartment he shares with his best friend, a burn out light bulb and a populous herd of dust bunnies. Speak of the devil, one of those is lingering in the way between his bed and the door, leaving no chance for him to avoid its presence. He contemplates about sending it back home to the others under the carpet, but the chances are dangerously high that they are already recruiting soldiers for a dust clump revolution against the pretence of neatness.

Therefore he puts on his not-so-shining armour of sweatpants and a holey T-shirt, sends Lewy a quick text and pads out of his room to find the hoover.

 

 

He almost regrets getting up when he steps into the kitchen and finds two cranky dragons breathing fire instead of loved up doves tweeting happily. It seems like he has missed serious shit there. Bastian’s sitting at one end of the table and Lukas is at the other - which can already be taken as a warning sign - and smoke’s coming out of their ears. There are several packs of sheets scattered in front of them, covered with formulas Jerome vaguely recognises from his nightmares. Ugh, he shudders and passes the scene with long steps. It’s exam period again.

 

Inside the laundry room he eventually finds the vacuum cleaner alongside the ironing board that lay long forgotten behind vintage cardboard boxes. As he struggles with pulling the device out, he thinks over what he has just seen in the kitchen and recalls the good old college times.

 

When Basti started his first uni year Jerome was in his second and felt experienced in life as hell, tossing brotherly advices to and fro. One time he told Bastian the universal rule of electrical engineering students: ‘Everything can be learnt with one book and twenty-four hours lack of sleep.’ But now that he recalls it, he’s pretty much sure he has never told him the extension. The rule isn’t valid for Atomic Physics.

 

On his way back to his bedroom, Jerome checks how the couple is doing and finds close to none improvement. Well, Basti’s state only worsened in the, let’s say, ten minutes Jerome was away and he’s close to a breakdown in the moment. A quire of sheets with the invaluable notes on them lies in two pieces in front of him and if Jerome squints he can see the corners of the pages catching fire from Bastian’s glare. Jerome shakes his head, knowing all too well that Basti’s going to regret ripping up his lifebelt.

The sole thing that has changed for the better that now Lukas is taking cautious glances at his boyfriend and Bastian huffs a little at that, so there’s at least some kind of telepathic communication going on.

 

Jerome feels a bit sorry for them, but he has a mission to accomplish without wasting more time ergo he starts cleaning his room like greased lightning. Surprisingly, all the dirt vanish without a trace after half an hour and Jerome has to question the reasons why he avoided this duty for so long when it’s really not much of a work. Once finished with the vacuum cleaning, he decides to repair the lamp in the bathroom until Lewy arrives.

 

Just as he gets the bulb halfway out, Jerome hears knocking on the front door and he skips over there, opens it and stumbles backwards from the forceful greeting kiss.

 

“Whoa… You okay, babe?”

 

“I’m a damn genius, Jerome!” Lewy exclaims with the biggest possible grin and Jerome raises an eyebrow, forcing himself to keep a straight face.

 

“You don’t look like one now.” He says and Lewy punches his shoulder lightly.

 

“Don’t be mean to your savior.”

 

Jerome snorts and goes back to the bathroom, closely followed by his boyfriend. Stepping onto a stool under the lamp and reaching up, he purposely ignores his urge to ask what’s going on to test Lewy’s patience and tease him a bit.

 

“Aren’t you interested in my success?” Lewy blurts out after a minute of silence and Jerome laughs, stretching out his arm to ruffle Lewy’s hair.

 

“Of course I am. Spill, why are you my savior?”

 

“Because the blues at your workplace are definitely over. The bee and the flower have met and the nectar has been invented by me.”

 

The bulb is out finally and Jerome happily grabs the new one, trying to give the other to his boyfriend.

“Hold this for a minute, please.”

 

“Yuck! No!” Lewy has his blue eyes wide open, staring at the bulb with dilated pupils.

 

“It’s just a little dust. Look, it’s clean now.” Jerome says, wiping its surface with his shirt.

 

“But the bugs.”

 

“What bugs?”

 

“Inside the bulb.”

 

Jerome makes a show of rolling his eyes. “If you weren’t a grown up man, I would say you are afraid of two drained mosquitos and a moth mummy.”

 

“I’m not afraid, they’re disgusting.” Lewy says and takes hold of the item grudgingly.

 

Placing the new bulb is definitely easier than taking out its broken ancestor and Jerome’s off the stool within minutes.

“So, what happened with the bees and stuff?”

 

A wide grin spreads across Lewy’s face. “Mats and Benni reconciled.”

 

“What? Are you serious? It was high time for that.”

 

Lewy nods and tells Jerome the details. “…and the whole thing with the video and the roses was my idea alone, so I’m right here if you want to worship someone.”

 

“No way.” Jerome laughs and neglects Lewy’s puckering lips. He walks out of the room and straight into the kitchen to grab a bite, completely forgetting about his flatmate.

 

“…to hell with this shit! Why do I have to learn this subject? There’s no fucking need for any of this, I won’t ever use it in work and just all the exams can screw themselves…”

 

Yeah, the Bastian meltdown is full-blown in the moment when Jerome and Lewy emerge from behind closed doors and though Jerome has no idea how an exam can screw itself, he’s pretty sure Bastian in his current state will make that possible. They both take a step back when Lukas’ chair is pushed back with a loud scraping sound and Bastian takes one heated look at the source before grabbing a textbook and throwing it down to the floor.

 

They watch as Lukas walks over to him and orders firmly. “Stop it.”

 

Bastian casts down his eyes in surrender, but still kicks into the poor copy with clear hatred. Lukas grabs Bastian's jaw and turns his face so that they are looking at each other.

 

“I said. Stop it.” He drawls and Jerome wouldn’t be surprised if Bastian exploded in the spot. It takes him aback though when Basti lurches forward instead and captures Lukas’ lips with his own. The kiss is not one Jerome has seen from them before – and he has seen _a_ _lot_ – and at some point it becomes more like a competition of who can thrust his tongue further into the other’s mouth.

 

“I think you’re in serious danger here, I cannot let you stay in the apartment tonight.” Lewy whispers into Jerome’s ear, coming up from behind him to wrap his arms around Jerome’s waist. It’s hard to miss the innuendo in Lewy’s voice, but Jerome tries anyway, relieved when his voice doesn’t shake much.

 

“Alright. What are your plans for the evening?”

 

“Anything you want, buttercup.”

 

“What’s with these weird nicknames?” Jerome sniggers and Lewy blushes crimson red at the question.

 

 “I just, uhm… Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Jerome says with a smile and Lewy squeezes his abdomen.

 “ _Muffindoll._ ”

 

He gets an ear flick for that addition as he goes to change his clothes to something more appropriate and they leave the flat not long after.

 

* * *

 

 

“Lewy, where are my _Bite Me!_ boxers? Urgent matter.” That’s the first sound they hear after closing the door of Lewy’s hotel room and Jerome narrows his eyes.  How the hell would Lewy know the answer to that question? And why should anyone else’s boxers be in his room? Who the fuck is in the side room? Jerome’s not jealous. Not at all.

 

“That’s Marco.” Lewy informs him in a low voice which doesn’t go a long way to make Jerome’s inappropriate thoughts disappear. He really shouldn’t jump into conclusions and he won’t let himself turn into a possessive bitch, so Jerome stomps down his bad feelings and only hopes that Marco won’t come in sight until he finds his underwear.

 

“Found them!” They hear the yell and then a loud gasp as Marco comes out of the room.

 

“Why do you need _those_?” Lewy asks, gazing at the only piece of clothing Marco wears.

 

“I’m spending the night somewhere else.” Marco says in an attempt of being mysterious, but he stays transparent as gossamer.

 

“Have fun with Mario then.” Jerome hears Lewy say and Marco mutters something Lewy simply ignores.

“I think you two haven’t been introduced yet, so Marco, he’s my unbelievably sexy boyfriend and Jerome, this is the trash that continuously wreaks havoc with my life.”

 

Jerome’s fluttered by the introduction, but a little confused as well with Lewy’s attitude towards Marco and the reaction it gets. Namely nothing.

Lewy’s phone rings and he excuses himself, telling Jerome to make himself home and leaving the room.

 

Marco promptly jumps into an expensive leather armchair, picking up his phone from the coffee table, and Jerome takes a seat on the couch close to him. They stay in silence for a while and Marco’s chewing on his bubble gum is the only sound to be heard.

 

“So.” Marco says, turning the phone around in his hand. He keeps chewing with opened mouth as he checks out Jerome shamelessly.

Jerome thanks his luck he doesn’t have Benni’s skin, because he would definitely beat a cooked lobster with the colour he would turn.

 

“How are…things?” That’s what Marco manages in the end and Jerome gapes.

 

How the hell to answer a question like that?

“Fine, I guess.”

 

Marco nods eagerly then turns to his phone and starts playing Candy Crush. Jerome’s baffled by that behaviour and wonders whether Marco’s always like this or it’s only Jerome’s privilege to get it.

 

“Bitch.” The sudden outcry breaks Jerome’s train of thoughts and he lets out a breath when Marco drops his phone on the table. “Discharged piece of shit.”

 

Lewy chooses this moment to come back and Jerome’s not even ashamed to think he has never been gladder to see him.

 

“We’re getting along great!” Marco declares and Jerome raises both of his eyebrows. They have different concepts of the expression, that’s for sure.

 

The grin Lewy flashes fades a little when his eyes meet Jerome’s pleading look and he gets it in an instant. Marco is on the other side of the threshold before he can form a word of protest, locked out carefully and Jerome doesn’t supress his sigh as he stands up and hugs his boyfriend.

 

“God, finally.” He breathes and Lewy chuckles. “Can we go to bed?”

 

The question catches Lewy a bit off-guard, but he’s not so stunned to stay unresponsive when Jerome kisses him.

“Don’t you want to eat dinner first?” He asks when they part, stroking Jerome’s arms.

 

“Well, I think you have something to give me right here…” Jerome practically purrs and feels Lewy’s skin breaking out in goosebumps under his hand.

“And you said you deserved some worship.” He adds and knows it will be a good night when Lewy reaches to switch off the lights.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first exam period is coming up the next week (I still don't know a word) and there are two possibilities of me updating:  
> a) I study for the exams throughout the weekend and Wednesday is the earliest I will post, after I failed  
> or  
> b) I realise during the weekend that I'm hopeless and post before I fail.
> 
> My second exam period is going to be in the first weeks of May and that will be the bigger deal, but I can't even get through this little crap. Please send me your cosmic energy, guys, I need it. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco at Mario's

 

 

**Marco's POV**

 

Marco doesn’t know how he ended up at Mario’s flat, sitting in his bed, snuggled close to his warm body and. And watching fucking Sharknado. ‘ _Enough said!’_

Nobody can tell Marco a good enough excuse for that shit, because it fails on levels that should win awards. It’s an understatement that the movie bends the laws of physics. And chemistry and biology and geography… life in general. And really, whose sick mind could produce the ‘time of the month’ joke?

After a while, Marco starts to enjoy the way it makes him laugh his ass off and he reaches an actual conclusion. First, he would definitely chainsaw Mario out of a shark to save him. Second, that film is a classic. Not sure exactly what kind, but it is a classic.

 

Despite all that inimitable entertainment, he’s relieved when he can switch off Mario’s television. He lets out a breath and looks at Mario to see how he reacted to being fed with crap. For his great surprise, Mario is fast asleep, curling into a ball in the centre of the bed. Marco smiles in a way he might be embarrassed about in public and watches Mario’s face until he realises it’s creepy as fuck. Then he tenses to move and gets one leg off the bed when fingers grip his thigh and he hears Mario’s muffled voice from somewhere near his closest _friend_ , who seems to find interest even in the mere fact that Mario exists.

 

But this is not his time, this is Marco’s to fulfil every single plea of Mario, the ones he says, the ones he doesn’t  and those he hasn’t think about yet. Well, if Mario’s plea includes his friend, then of course Marco lets his brain pass the control to lower parts of his body, but only then. Because Mario deserves every worship Marco can manage, if that means they are going slow, they are going slow.

 

“Stay here…” Mario whines and clings to Marco’s shirt, not fully awake.

 

Marco chuckles and settles back on the bed, this time lying on his side to face Mario. He can’t tear away his eyes from Mario’s lips. They are a bit chapped and Marco aches to make them wet, even more because they haven’t kissed again yet.

 

He does just that, because he’s Marco Reus, he can do anything, right? He doesn’t chicken out, he doesn’t care about consequences, he…

 

“Just kiss me already.”

 

Mario still has his eyes closed and Marco starts believing supernatural abilities exist. If that’s true, Marco will have to get an ability to read minds, that would do him pretty good when he tries to guess what Mario’s thinking or whether Mario likes him or whether Mario wants to sleep with him.

 

“Marco.” Mario has one eye open and he’s peering at him now with a confused look.

 

“Uh, sorry Sunny.” Marco murmurs and covers Mario’s lips with his own.

 

Mario doesn’t really reciprocate, but Marco writes that on the account of his sleep-addled mind and he delves into the warmth of that perfect mouth. He puts one hand over Mario’s chubby cheek and strokes it, smiling into the kiss when he feels the stubble under his palm.

God, he is deeply fucked up. He’s starting to act like he has eaten a full ounce of magic mushrooms that make him see shiny stars and glittering rainbows falling off Mario’s body every second.

 

Marco has an enormously huge, inexplicably giant crush on this circa 1.7 metres of perfection. And not the kick-ass bottled soda-pop kind of crush, but the one that gets so many butterflies into his stomach that he’s sure he gained a few kilos from them.

 

He feels the vibrations from Mario’s whimpering in his mouth, so he pulls away and crooks a smile that was meant to be affectionate, but turned out to be a bit cocky. Mario smiles back and turns, cuddling into Marco and relaxing with his back pressed against Marco’s chest. Marco holds him close, but huffs a little before he settles comfortably, because – not that Mario knows –  Marco loves to be the little spoon and it would have been great if Mario could just curl himself over him from behind.

 

But nothing’s bad until he can embrace Mario and inhale his scent, that familiar spicy fragrant that… That’s the perfume Marco has promoted. Fuck, this feels so great, knowing that Mario wanted his smell on himself even before they got to know each other in person. Mario wants Marco on himself, have his mark on… Shit, now Marco’s getting possessive as well. Get it together, Reus, you’re not allowed to give in to the temptation and let your system collapse.

Marco has two control centres, a well-educated brain and a talented, gorgeous, mighty… uhm, yeah, that. But no, he cannot let those lose their powers, just because one hidden part of his personality, his heart, decides to take control over his life. Mario squirms a bit, starts letting out soft snores and Marco sighs. It’s too late, there’s no way back from here.

 

* * *

 

 

Marco jerks awake to Mario’s wriggling and he lets go of him. Mario turns around at that and speaks up, grabbing blindly for Marco’s hand.

 

“Move your arms so I can put the groceries down on your lap.”

 

He says that clearly and audibly, but Marco just feels something is not right and says as much. Surprisingly, Mario answers.

 

“Watch the salad motherfucker until I put the TV player in the fridge so it won’t soil.”

 

Weird. Marco can’t put a finger on those sentences for a moment before he gets on the beam. Mario is a sleeptalker. It’s pathetic, but Marco finds even that adorable. During the night he wakes up once more when Mario laughs at him for ‘throwing butter on bugs’ and Marco will never admit he laughed along.

 

* * *

 

The morning comes with blinding sunshine and that fits so well with the thing – person – Marco thinks about waking up. It’s not the light what rouses him though, but something furry and warm nestling against his face and blocking the way of his breathing. For a precious and fleeting moment he thinks it’s Mario’s hair, but the thing starts purring and Marco jerks his head away in shock.

 

“What the fuck?” He says before rubbing his eyes clear and then he spots it.

 

There’s a little tabby cat on the bed, looking up at him expectantly and purring like crazy next to Mario’s shoulder. Marco laughs in relief and wakes up Mario with his loud noises. He wants to apology when he realises it, but Mario shoots him a sleepy smile before he can open his mouth and Marco melts into the sheets.

 

Mario’s next glance falls over the kitten and the smile turns into a wide grin, which not directed at him makes Marco’s face darker than the sky during a storm. The puss crawls in Mario’s lap after he has sat up and Mario runs his fingers over its round belly.

Marco is in the grip of the green-eyed monster, because Mario is supposed to stroke _him_ and not that stupid furball. Jesus, Marco is jealous of a kitten. Where is the world heading?

 

“He’s Woody.” Mario says absent-mindedly, then immediately claps his hand over his mouth. “Shit.”

 

He is Woody, the kitten is Wood… Fuck. “You named your kitty after me?”

 

Mario shrugs, blushed red as a tomato and damn, can he be any cuter? Marco glances at the cat, then up at Mario, then at the cat again and he lurches forward in the next moment. Some still lucid part of him manages to get the pet out of the way and put it gently on the floor before he pins Mario to the bed, kissing the protests out of his mouth. Mario relaxes after the first surprise and kisses him back, letting Marco engage him in a furious make out session.

 

When Marco slides a hand under Mario’s shirt and pulls it upwards, Mario pushes him off and snickers at his pout. He stays cheerful and gives Marco a few more kisses, but Marco feels there’s something that bothers him. After Marco tries once more to lead their smooches to a more serious way, Mario stops him again and gets out of the bed to go brush his teeth.

 

Marco turns onto his back and spreads out on the bed. He takes a glance down at his _friend_ and drops his head back on the pillow with a sigh.

 

“I know, mate, I know…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharknado is the movie that made my hair grow inwards in frustration, because honestly, it's about a tornado picking up thousands of sharks and hurling them on people who shoot them in the air with pistols. Or hit them with a bar stool/cut in half with a chainsaw.
> 
>  
> 
> Go3tzu3s, you have been right! :) And I don't even feel guilty for the two hours of peace this gave me.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome has a quarrel with Mario

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My past few days have been really bad, so this won't be a chapter full of crack, but at least the storyline goes on. :)
> 
> (Odds are high that the next part will be Benni's.)

 

 

He knows it will be a bad day from the tossing and turning during the night, from his bus being late half an hour and his head aching like it has been wrapped in a blanket of nails just because of a stupid weather front arrived again.

 

Once in the office, he senses something is off even in there, because Benni’s smiles don’t reach his eyes and Mario’s nowhere to be found even though his hideous Burning Sting backpack is behind his counter. After an hour of undisturbed working, the door of Jerome’s room opens and Mario steps in and… God, he is furious.

 

“Hey, Jerome. I’ve heard something interesting.” He says it with a smile, but the vicious gleaming in his eyes ruins the soothing effect.

 

Jerome gulps and answers with a striking “Yeah?”

 

“Actually, I’ve been talking with Marco on the phone yesterday and he had surprising news about one of the other band members. What’s his name again? Oh, yeah, Robert Satan Lewandowski, I think you may have heard of him.”

 

Jerome gets where this is going and it would be an understatement to say he doesn’t like the way Mario’s presenting it.

 

“What’s your problem, Mario?”

 

Mario goes on with his story, ignoring Jerome’s question.

“When Marco told me that he liked you, I laughed, because according to what I knew, you two never met. But he said Lewandowski introduced him to his boyfriend about a week ago and he was pretty sure it was you. You know what I told him? That you would definitely tell me something like that, because we are friends and we tell each other the important matters in our lives.”

 

“Mario.”

 

“After that, I heard him shouting for somebody who shouted back something and then Marco told me that Satan’s boyfriend surely is Jerome Boateng.”

 

They fall into dead silence for a few seconds before Benni clears his throat and makes a move to stand up and get out of the room, but Mario gestures in his direction and says he should stay.

 

“I think you owe us an explanation.” Mario says and Jerome feels his blood start to boil as he stands up behind his desk.

 

“I think I owe you nothing. This is _my_ private life and has nothing to do with our friendship.”

 

That triggers Mario’s anger as well, making his voice jump well above 70 decibels.

“We both told you all the important things that happened to us! I went to you every single time an attractive man even just winked at me and you were the one I told how much Kevin’s stupid comments made me upset. I trusted you in everything.”

 

“I appreciate that.”

 

“Don’t you have trust in me? Or Benni?”

 

“I have, but…”

 

“But? You wanted to keep such big things secret from us? What did you think, Jerome? That we won’t notice it eventually?”

 

That’s the end of Jerome’s patience and the next sentence leaves his mouth as a yell.

“It’s not your damn business, that’s what I thought!”

 

The air freezes between them and Mario nods slowly.

 

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s not my business. Have a nice day.” He says coldly and leaves the room, not stopping or reacting in the slightest way despite Jerome’s calling after him.

 

“Mario, come back!”

 

* * *

 

Jerome collapses into his chair with a loud sigh and turns to Benni.

“Are you mad at me too?”

 

“No, of course not.”

 

Jerome wants to say he’s relieved, but he can’t be. This was his first fight with Mario and he has no idea whether they would hold a grudge against each other for long or it would be easy to reconcile.

 

He doesn’t realise he has drifted off into his own thoughts until Benni walks over to him and pats his back.

“You just have to understand that… Mario’s a bit sensitive, because now he feels like he’s useless as a friend.”

 

“Ridiculous, he’s one of my best friends. I’m just… I’m not really comfortable with talking about my relationships, I’ve never been.”

 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to share everything. But friendship is a mutual connection and in this moment Mario feels as though he was the only one who let the other in.”

 

Benni’s words make sense for Jerome and he sees the problem in a completely different way now.

“Do you think I should go talk with him?”

 

Benni shakes his head and sits back into his chair, turning to his work on the desk.

“You should let it settle in him at least until tomorrow, but then you two have to sort this out, because I won’t be the mediator.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

As if his fight with Mario wasn’t enough, after work Jerome met Lewy and he would lie if he said things were okay. Lewy acts quite off and he’s unusually quiet until they are behind the closed doors of Jerome’s bedroom at his flat. He waits for Jerome to sit down on the edge of the bed before letting the cat out of the bag.

 

“Are you ashamed of me in some way?”

 

Lewy’s tone is more sad than angry and Jerome is quick to reassure him that shame is not the case at all.

“No, how would you think that? I’m just…”

 

“You just?”

 

“It’s hard for me to speak about my love life. My parents always expressed their disapproval pretty bluntly when I first realised my attraction to men. That’s one of the reasons why I tried for so long to fit in a hetero relationship and why you never hear anything about my family. We didn’t talk after I told them I would move in to my flat with a gay person.”

 

Jerome takes a deep breath before adding a conclusion.

“I’m afraid to say anything, because I don’t want anybody to judge or ruin what we have, like my parents did when I was young.”

 

He doesn’t look up when he hears Lewy coming closer and feels a gentle hand on the top of his head. Jerome closes his eyes and says the bitter thought he never really acknowledged until this moment.

 

“Sometimes I feel guilty for being who I am.”

 

Lewy crouches in front of him and cups his face with both of his hands.

 

“Never say that again.” He says slowly, stressing every word. “You should be proud of yourself for not giving up on the happiness you deserve.  And if anybody, your parents should feel guilty for themselves. Family ought to be a shelter and not a prison.”

 

When Jerome doesn’t reply, Lewy presses light kisses all over his face until a small smile appears on his lips and he shies away from the touch.

 

“This is definitely one of my worst days ever.” Jerome mutters after his smile vanished.

 

“Anything I can do?”

 

“Just tell me you’re not angry.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

Jerome isn’t convinced, but Lewy prevents his doubtful questions with an effective distraction, namely himself, and soon enough they are lying on the bed in all their naked glory. Lewy arches his back when Jerome’s mouth trails a wet path down to his navel and he groans when Jerome freezes.

 

“Come on, baby, please…”

 

Jerome has to clap a hand over Lewy’s mouth to stop his whining. He heard a noise from outside that must have been the front door being shut and the sound of keys clanking together confirms that somebody has come in.

 

“No need to hiiiide!” Bastian’s drawl echoes in the apartment and Jerome breaks out in goosebumps while Lewy starts squirming under him.

 

“I know you are there.” They hear the singsong voice coming closer and Jerome wonders why the bastard gets so cheerful from their embarrassment.

 

When the steps get dangerously close, Jerome starts praying for Bastian to have that little common sense to realise he shouldn’t walk in on two people having sex. Suddenly, they hear laughter and the loud sound of people wrestling on the floor and Jerome buries his face in Lewy’s stomach. Of course it was stupid Lukas playing hide-and-seek with his moron of a boyfriend, which is relieving in one-way, unsettling in another.

 

 Because if Lukas was in Basti’s room, he had to be there even before they arrived and that suggests he must have heard Lewy and him. Jerome doesn’t panic though, since Lukas doesn’t seem concerned about anything besides Bastian judged by the smooching sounds outside.

 

“Luki, Luki, stop…” Bastian’s voice implies the complete opposite of their meaning and Jerome’s not surprised to hear a loud moan following them.

“Jerome can arrive in any minute.”

 

The moment of truth has come and Jerome doesn’t suppress the relief flooding through him when Lukas decides to be nice and doesn’t give them away. They listen to the pair leaving the flat within minutes and only then does Jerome notice that Lewy has been licking his palm for God knows how long.

 

“Oops, sorry.” Jerome says, yanking his hand away and lifting himself up a bit. He wipes his skin on the sheets before taking a glance down and he can’t do anything else than gaping.

 

“Honestly?”

 

Lewy smiles coyly at him and Jerome rolls his eyes, because how can he be as aroused as ever when Jerome has no trace of his previous erection left?

 

“I bet you have a kink for public sex…” He mutters when Lewy bucks his hips, but eventually Jerome takes pity on him and continues where they left off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They are still panting in their blissful afterglow when Lewy slides a hand along Jerome’s side and lets it settle on his hip. He pulls them closer together and nuzzles Jerome’s cheek, then whispers into his ear.

 

“Hey, I almost forgot. There will be a concert next month where the band will perform. It won’t be a really big one, but you can count on Marco to create a great show.  Would you… would you come and watch me?”

 

His voice wavers a little at the end and Jerome laughs for a moment before kissing his yes into Lewy’s flushed neck.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, I didn't have time to edit. [ again :( ]
> 
> I have the ending planned (which in itself takes three chapters at least), so the amount of the remaining chapters is just a matter of how many small scenes I want to include. What I want to say with this is a) I know where the story is going and b) you can tell me anytime if you're fed up with my poppycock. :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benni deserves a little worship, doesn't he?
> 
> (And by the way, we get to know why Mario refuses to do the horizontal tango with Marco)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I hope this doesn't suck and you will like it to some extent, because I have been in a weird mood during writing. But hey, sometimes it's okay to eat chocolate at 10 pm and have sugar rush, right?
> 
> Happy Easter for everyone who celebrates! :D

 

  **Benni's POV**

 

Mornings in general are not particularly Benni’s favourites. They are alarm clocks, baggy eyes and public transport topped with the inevitable meeting with his enemy, the bathroom mirror. But today it must be better, he had a great dream, the air is filled with the scent of something really nice and dear senile Mrs. Spencer from 2/b hasn’t started her 7 am hovering yet.

 

Benni rolls over in his bed and stretches with the biggest possible yawn he can manage. The May sun shines into his room, right on the painting he got from Mario ages ago and well... He has no idea now why he hung that on his wall instead of giving it that well-deserved place in the loft. Seems like it’s high time to correct that mistake.

 

As he comes to his senses, Benni realises what the familiar pleasant smell is and smiles. So it wasn’t a dream, Mats has been in his apartment again. The only question left… where is he now? Not in the room, obviously. That’s quite relieving, all things and Benni’s awful morning breath considered, so no need to waste more time lying under the warm covers on the sticking… Oh, shit, so it got _that_ far. Benni sits up and observes the rumpled sheets with a sigh. At least his underwear is not on the bedside lamp like the first time. Wait, his clothes are actually folded on top of an ottoman, that’s odd.

 

He takes a cautious glance around just for good measure before sliding out of the bed and walking over there, pulling on the garments quickly. Mission completed, he cracks the bedroom’s door open a little and peers out in case Mats is blocking his safe way down the corridor. Luckily, there’s no trace of him, so Benni manages to pad into the bathroom without knocking off the ridiculous fake plant from the cupboard and bumping his toe only once into the threshold. The day is already a considerable success.

 

Once inside, he snatches his toothbrush from the Burning Sting tooth-glass – Jesus, he has to throw that out before Mats sees it – and takes a look at his reflection.

 

“Charming as ever, Benedikt.” He growls to himself and splashes cold water on his face.

 

He starts brushing his teeth and just then does he notice the yellow note glued to the mirror’s edge, saying ‘ _Don’t believe whatever it says. You’re gorgeous’_ with Mats’ hieroglyphics. Taken by surprise Benni spits out the water from his mouth and covers the whole mirror with dirty spots.

After a hard, but victorious battle against his tears of helplessness, he clears the mess he made and turns himself presentable enough to face the love of his pathetic life.

 

* * *

 

 

Mats flashes a seductive smile across the kitchen and skips over to Benni for a kiss the very moment he spots him.

“You’re so lovely with dishevelled hair.” He says, ruffling Benni’s thin locks before going back to the frying pan.

                              

Benni’s reply has died somewhere between the first and the second thought, strangled by the sweetness Mats seems to radiate 0-24 in his direction, and only a weak _‘hi Matsi’_  gets out of his mouth as he sits down at the table. Mats isn’t bothered by it though, moreover, his enthusiasm to please Benni starts to reach an alarmingly high level with all the cloth-folding, breakfast-cooking and ‘Benni is made of spun gold’-ing.

 

“Here you goo.” Mats singsongs and puts a plate on the table in front of Benni.

He made pancakes and for heaven’s sake, he wrote a B on each one with maple syrup.

 

“Oops, almost forgot.” He adds and places a mug in Benni’s hands, with cocoa and a _heart_ of whipped cream in it and oh God, someone please help Benni breathe.

 

Eventually everything settles back into normal and after Benni’s constant nagging Mats reveals reluctantly that there’s indeed a purpose behind all the spoiling he dumped on Benni.

 

“It’s just that I want to take you to a restaurant, because we didn’t have any real dates and I was nervous and I feel like I’m not a good enough boyfriend for you and…”

 

Benni stops the rambling with an effective kiss and kills two clip-winged birds with one very big stone, since that shuts that fool up and kind of shows Benni’s opinion about Mats as a boyfriend. The kiss and a cheerful yes finally calms Mats down and they fall into casual conversation that turns to the usual work topic of course.

 

“The recording goes pretty well and the album is close to complete.” Mats says before taking a sip from his mug. “There’s only one tiny problem.”

 

“What? Is there anything I can help with?”

 

Mats turns down Benni’s offer with a shake of his head and a sigh. “You’re not a psychiatrist, so it’s not likely. Well, the thing is that Marco has fallen for the sun.”

 

“The sun?”

 

“Yeah. He insists on Lewy writing him a song about the sun, about how beautiful he is and how everything revolves around him. The weirdest is that Marco actually calls it a he. And of course Lewy refuses to do that stupid song.”

 

Benni has the slight feeling that Mats hasn’t really paid enough attention to those arguments, but he doesn’t have an explanation either, so he just nods and hums at the right places as Mats keeps whining about the matter.

 

* * *

 

 

Hopefully work will be uneventful. Not that Benni is into boring days, but he just wants to get out of the office and to Mats’ hotel as soon as possible. The problem is that Mario and Jerome had no fights since the last incident and Kevin has only committed two social suicides this week, so the bomb’s explosion is just a matter of time.

 

“Just not today, just not today…” He prays as he steps out of the elevator and almost turns back when he sees the crowd gathered around Löw’s office.

 

A party again, great, as if Löw’s parties wasn’t always boring and irritatingly required.

 

“’Morning, Benni.” Mario says, crabby as a curmudgeon and Benni isn’t surprised in the least bit. “You heard ‘bout the torture coming up in June?”

 

Benni shoots his friend a glare and they spend the next five minutes in consentient silence. Just as the crowd seems to dissolve a loud growl can be heard, followed closely by a huff. Taking a glance at the source - Mario - Benni struggles to find a way to express what he sees.

 

Mario is eating kefir. Actual kefir, not strawberry yoghurt or semolina pudding, and there’s no trace of a chocolate bar or anything else in his hands.

 

“Mario, can I ask you something?”

 

“No.” The answer comes to Benni’s wary question without hesitation and another few minutes pass before Mario sighs and puts down his spoon.

 

“How fat do you think I am?” He asks nervously and Benni can’t help a smile.

 

“Mario, you’re not fat, just chubby a bit. It’s absolutely okay.”

 

“No, it’s not.” Mario’s voice gets increasingly high-pitched. “I’ve started a diet after my movie date with Marco and it has no effect! I’ve been doing skipping rope exercises and…”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. Skipping rope?” Benni interrupts with laughter riding his words.

 

“It’s not funny, okay? I’ve read a lot about skipping and it should have an effect. But nothing changed, nothing at all, and it’s gonna ruin everything.”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” This matter raised serious concern in Benni by this point and Mario’s sudden blush doesn’t help it at all.

 

“My thing with… Marco. I mean… we didn’t have sex or anything at that base and… I don’t know what to do, please help me!”

 

“Hey, Mario, calm down, this is not the end of the world.”

 

“It can be, because if I don’t have sex with Marco, he will think I don’t like him and he will leave me. But if I have, he will see my… my barrel belly and then he will leave me because of that!”

 

“Mario, you don’t have a barrel belly.” Benni says, taking the kefir from Mario’s hand and giving him a hug.

“There’s no need to freak out on such hogwash. I’m sure that Marco is a smitten kitten for you with or without round curves.”

 

“But…”

 

“No but, Mario. Trust me in this. Do you know what Mats said after our first night together?”

 

“You two slept together?”

 

Benni turns crimson red, but there’s no retreat from here. “Err… yeah. But the important thing now is what he said afterwards.”

 

“What? That you’re perfect the way you are?”

 

“No, but that would have been nice too. He said he had been with athletes and beauty queens before, but none of them had been as beautiful and mesmerizing as I was.”

 

“Wow. That’s… sweet. But Marco would never in his life say something like that.”

 

“Maybe he won’t, but his eyes and his heartbeat will tell you everything. Don’t be shy, Mario, I know it’s hard, but the result worth it.”

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“Just pay attention to the signs and when he tries to open your shell, let it happen.”

Benni finishes and takes a step towards his office before turning back for a last addition.

 

“And please eat something that contains some energy.”

With that, he leaves the dumbfounded Mario behind and drifts away into his plans for the night with a certain musician.

 

* * *

 

 

It has turned dark outside, the radio is on and Mats has been swaying with him to the music in the last twenty minutes when a song ends and the next moment Marco’s voice fills the room. They both double over in laughter before Mats starts singing along, imitating Marco’s movements and Benni has tears in his eyes by the time it ends.

 

While Mats is switching off the hifi, Benni walks over to the window and watches as the city’s second life goes on. The familiar golden lights with the colourful spots from cars and sandwich boards make him feel snug and protected behind the doors of this expensive hotel room.

 

Mats comes up behind him and snakes his arms around Benni’s waist, pulling him back until their whole bodies are pressed together.

 

“Isn’t it beautiful, Matsi?”

Benni whispers and Mats doesn’t answer, just tightens his embrace and nuzzles into his cheek. It makes Benni snicker when Mats nibbles on his ear and presses small kisses to his temple, instantly sending the blood from Benni’s mind to his lower regions.

 

“I love doing this…” Mats says and bites into Benni’s ear gently. “Your ears get all pink, it’s cute.”

 

Benni feels the heat radiating from his face - his ears flush only from the embarrassment of being aroused after such a light touch. He practically feels Mats’ smirk against his cheek and he gasps when a hand slides down from his waist right onto his crotch.

 

“Yeah.” Mats murmurs into his shoulder with a little chuckle. “I know about this too.”

 

No need to say that Benni’s boxers don’t even make it to the bedside lamp.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silly filler chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write about the concert in this chapter and this happened instead. :)
> 
> I dedicate this to the causer, dear ArkanianP ;)

 

 

Jerome has a goal to achieve and he won’t give up on it for some intruder’s whim, said person being his famous boyfriend or not. This bet has to be won against Benni to prove that he is the one who can complete more crosswords in an evening and therefore he’s the smarter. To be frank, he doesn’t even know how Lewy got inside the apartment when he was told clearly on the phone that tonight would be occupied. Well, it’s possible that he bought Basti with puppy eyes and movie tickets for two, but just… why, why now?

 

“Jesus Jerome, we are not 60. Are you getting into your dotage already?”

They are in Jerome’s bed now and the bastard can’t stop whining since the moment he stepped through the threshold.

 

“I pretend I didn’t even hear that.”

 

“Aw, come on. Drop that bullshit and do something with me.” Lewy says, hugging Jerome’s legs.

 

“Like what?”

 

He crawls closer and wiggles his eyebrows at his unimpressed boyfriend. “You can always take care of little Lewy.”

 

Jerome turns back to his papers without batting an eyelash. “Little Lewy had better lie low tonight.”

 

“It’s impossible with your sexy glasses on. Pleeease!”

 

Giving Lewy a look Jerome suppresses a chuckle at the adorable pout he forms and he has to tear his eyes away before finishing his task gets completely out of question. A faint smile appears on his face though, but he keeps his composure and manages to scribble down a few more letters before the next disturbance. When Lewy starts rolling around in the bed and whimpering like a small child, Jerome decides to sit at his computer desk without saying a word. The noises stop immediately and only the suspicious sound of rustling sheets can be heard.

 

“I would be careful if I were you.” Lewy’s voice is low and strangely growling, but Jerome decides to ignore it.

 

“Yeah?” _What the heck is the instrument of Cleopatra’s suicide in three letters?_

 

“The blanket titan is coming for you.”

 

“Blanket what?” Jerome asks, turning back just in time to see Lewy wrapped up in a blanket to the top of his head and smiling at him slyly. He raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to say something uncomplimentary, but Lewy jumps on him before he can get out any comprehensible protest. Within seconds Jerome finds himself back on the mattress with both of his hands pinned above his head and Lewy’s tongue down his throat.

 

“Your bet can go to hell in a handbasket.” Lewy mutters once he has pulled away and has already got one of his hands into Jerome’s sweatpants.

 

Let’s just say little Lewy has won against the crossword puzzle with a well-aimed roundhouse kick.

 

* * *

 

 

A week before the concert Löw gives all of his employees a day off and says nobody has to come in to the office on Friday. From anyone else, it would be taken as a generous gift, but they all know what it means. Löw wants to spend a long weekend camping with his family without losing a precious day from his annual leave. It’s not like he has an imposed amount of days to take off – that’s one of the benefits of being an employer – but he is just that kind of man who’s the strictest to himself. There are legends circling in the office about him spending a whole month behind his desk without closing his eyes for a minute of sleeping.

 

Anyway, if he wants them to avoid work on Friday, he expects everybody to show up for the opposite reason on the next Saturday. Which is by no means a good thing, especially when Lewy’s concert is on that week’s Friday and Marco has already expressed his intentions to get all of them drunk after the event.

 

But carpe diem, a day off is a day off and Jerome’s not gonna be a hell on heels only because the office’s vulture will give him a hard time the following weekend. So he ushers Bastian out of the apartment using his usual ace of ‘ _Lukas has just called…’_ and invites Mario and Benni for a little gathering. The boys arrive around lunchtime in the exact moment when Jerome realises that food doesn’t appear in the fridge by sheer miracle and he lets them in before hurrying to the grocery store down the block.

 

Of course there’s an entire retirement home jammed into the waiting line and it takes an eternity to get past Surly Donna at the cash desk, so he’s excruciated and totally worn-out by the time he makes it back to his flat and _why the fuck do these bags dig into his palm so much?_

 

He leaves the chips bags, chocolate bars and coke bottles… oh, and Mario’s dietary rabbit food by the door and strolls into the living room just to stop dead in his tracks the moment he sees his friends.

 

“It’s my allergies.” Benni says with a red, stuffed nose, trying to wipe the tears from his face. “And Mario uhm… he forgot to take out his contact lenses and they stuck, so he had to use eye drops.”

 

“Yeah… and you know, the ivory trade and all, it just… makes me.” Mario looks even worse if that’s doable, his eyes are puffy and lips swollen presumably from his biting on them.

 

Those symptoms are all too familiar to Jerome, he has seen them uncountable times when he accidentally walked in on them bawling in front of a computer screen.

 

“You two have been watching Titanic again.”

 

They remain silent for a moment, then Benni sniffs loudly and they break out in tears again. Mario grabs a cushion and buries his face in it, lying down across Benni’s lap. Benni on the other hand doesn’t even try to cover his sobbing and he looks as though he wants to supply Jerome with enough liquid to water his plants.

 

 “How’d you know?” He chokes out, rubbing his eyes and patting Mario’s shaking back.

 

Jerome sighs and sits down next to them on the couch, massaging his temples.

“You’re doing this all the time and think nobody knows. Besides, Mario doesn’t have contact lenses, nor glasses.”

 

“That’s true, Benni, you suck.” Mario whimpers, still clutching his pillow.

 

“Didn’t hear you coming up with a better excuse.”

 

Benni’s comment is rewarded with a couple more sobs before Mario sits up eventually and offers the soaked cushion to Jerome, who grudgingly takes it to the laundry room. His friends are composed enough for actual talking when he comes back, aside the awful mess that is their faces, and Jerome takes pity on them.

 

“The tissues are there.” He says, pointing at one of the windowsills and Benni stands up with a grateful look.

 

“Thanks.” He mumbles and walks over there before letting out a surprised yell. “What the hell?”

 

“Oh, don’t mind the tissue box.”

 

“This is a gobble monster.”

 

“Yeah, indeed. You know, Bastian was in charge for the shopping.”

 

A sudden, irritating noise interrupts the conversation and they both look at Mario, whose phone is beeping with constant incoming text messages. He grabs the device with a shit-eating grin and starts typing furiously without giving them any clue about what’s happening. After a while he glances up and freezes, realising that they are still staring at him with giant question marks in their eyes.

 

“What? Marco has woken up.”

 

Right, Jerome should have known that. He glances at his clock and is not even surprised when he sees it’s well past one in the afternoon. Marco’s biological clock is gloriously fucked up, that’s for sure. Mario starts letting out little giggles every fifth second and looks positively wrecked so when Benni suggests they watch an X-Men movie in one of the bedrooms, Jerome gladly goes along with it.

The rest of the day is spent in peaceful harmony between the four of them, Benni, Jerome, Mario and Marco’s text messages until Bastian gets back with telltale sex hair and the guests decide it’s better to go for the sake of their mental health, leaving Jerome on his own to listen to Basti’s babbling about every second of Lukas’ day. It’s gonna be a really, really long night.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I missed Marco, didn't you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I don't even have an excuse for this. But I promise the next chapter will be about the concert and the storyline will go on. I will post it tomorrow if no surprise happens, because I'm impatient (as always). :)
> 
> Concerning all your lovely comments and the number of kudos and hits I wanna thank you for the feedback, it always manages to get me on cloud nine. :D

 

 

**Marco's POV**

 

“How often do you have sex?”

 

They are watching Avatar together and Marco asks, because he has to know. If Mats with that questionable look can lay Benni, he and Mario should be bunnies by this point.

Benni chokes on his lemonade and Mats has to pat his back until he recovers from the shock and composes himself enough to answer Marco with a shade of face like a cardinal’s cloak.

 

“Our relationship isn’t based on physical connection.” Mats nods his approval and entwines his fingers with Benni’s. “The harmony between our souls and minds is…”

 

“Okay, okay, but you’ve slept together, right?”

 

“Yes, we have made love.” Mats answers to Marco, but his eyes are shining at Benni and he leans in for a kiss. They make out for what feels like hours, not that Marco is bothered, but when Mats lets out a tiny whine and Marco spots Benni’s hand on his upper thigh he has to step in.

 

“Oh please, fuckin’ gag me with a spoon.”

 

The lovebirds move apart and glare at him.

 

“Remind me why you’re here again.”

 

There’s a not-so-slight hint of annoyance in Mats’ voice and Marco stretches out on the bed, shrugging. The other two don’t need the place anyway, Benni is practically sitting in Mats’ lap.

 

“You had food.”

 

“There’s this thing called room service, Marco. You didn’t have to burst into _my_ room, lie into _my_ bed and harass _my_ boyfriend.”

 

That’s true. But sitting alone in his own room with a bottle of red wine and lamenting about global warming is a far cry from Marco’s style. It’s not his fault that he’s a social butterfly.

 

“By the way, what’s up with Mario?”

 

Mats’ tone suggests that this is his revenge for Marco’s previous behaviour. Sadly, it’s a successful groin attack.

 

“We’re good.”

 

Nobody says anything for a minute and Marco tests his cursing vocabulary in mind, because of fucking course those giant smurfs are having sex in the movie and just… when did everything become Mario, Mario, Mario? The sudden beep of his phone gets him back on track and he digs it out of his pocket excitedly, smiling when a name with a kissy emoji appears on the screen.

 

_“Im in a restaurant w my parents & bored”_

**_“me 2”_ **

_“tell me smthg 2 do”_

**_“try swallow ur tongue its fun 4 a while”_ **

_“ :/ “_

**_“rate other guests?”_ **

_“thats gr8!”_

_“gonna send u a pic, that guy is so funny”_

The picture arrives and Marco gapes. Mario didn’t say it would be a selfie. Oh shit. Sunny certainly has a talent of getting Marco hard in the worst possible times and especially when he wears a garment that covers nothing. Like his sweatpants now.

 

“I think you should tell Mario how much you adore him.” Benni says without averting his eyes from the movie and Marco goes for the old way of denying.

 

“I don’t adore him.”

 

“Then stop stroking his picture on your phone.”

 

Did he really do that? Pathetic. Time to admit defeat.

“I just don’t know what his problem is with me. I want to help and stuff, but… I’m not good at this.”

 

That makes Benni turn and his lips curve into an understanding smile. “He’s insecure about his looks.”

 

“That’s crazy, he’s stunning. Especially his eyebrows.”

 

“But he doesn’t know it. You know, Marco, there are people who need encouragement to open their shells and let you see the pearl inside.”

 

Marco’s sure that Benni reads way too much, but what he said actually makes sense, so he doesn’t comment on it.

 

“That pearl worth everything.” Mats murmurs and turns Benni’s face to himself. “It’s lustrous and peerless and so damn perfect.”

 

Benni giggles, the kissing session starts again and Marco realises that if he listens to them for one more minute he has to evacuate his stomach at breakneck speed. Therefore he leaves without bothering to say anything, it won’t get through the walls of the love bubble anyway.

 

He walks into Lewy’s room instead of his own just for the hell of it and starts rummaging around for something he can use for making a present.

Since last week, Marco feels as though he is buried under a shitload of pressure. Mario’s birthday is coming up the next Wednesday and he doesn’t really have much. Which actually means he has nothing.

 

There’s always the possibility to give himself as a gift of a sort, but after what Benni said Marco’s not sure it’s a good idea. After several minutes of fruitless searching his gears start working and produce a brilliant plan based on some parts of the movie he has just seen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Let’s see then. All the lights are on, great. Boxers in the background? None. Hair? Flawless. So, how does this shit work? Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away the user guide. But fuck, if he can play on a saxophone, a camera won’t outwit him. He just has to find the right buttons to start recording.

 

It’s a lucky thing that he’s on the couch in Lewy’s room for the first video. His own suite is like Breezy Point after Sandy and Mats’ has one more Benni inside than needed, not to mention that Marco’s not planning to put the “adults only” sign on his project. Not yet, at least. He hears a door opening and looks up to see a very disoriented, totally sleep-creased Lewy emerging from the side room.

 

“I don’t even ask.”

 

“Lewy!” Marco exclaims with his nicest manageable smile and gets a wince as a reply.

 

“If that’s supposed to melt my heart, you can quit it. I feel my guts clenching from foreboding.”

 

“Can you help me with this shitpiece? It refuses to work.”

 

Lewy zombies over to him and observes the device through half-closed eyes.

 

“The battery is dead.”

 

“Oh. Where’s the charger?”

 

“Dunno.” Lewy mumbles, slumps down on the couch and drops his head on Marco’s shoulder.

Marco lets him for a good while because he’s such a great friend, but when his shirt gets soaked from drool he decides to shake him awake.

 

“Why do you need that camera?” Lewy growls and stands up to walk to his bed.

 

“For a video diary I’ll upload to my website.”

 

“Good Lord, are you sure you want to wreck the cyberspace?”

 

Lewy collapses face forward on the mattress and Marco flops down next to him.

 

 “When are you going to write that song for me?” He asks and Lewy groans into the pillows.

 

“What song?”

 

“The Sunny-song.”

 

“When hell freezes over.”

 

“It’s manageable if you let it. You’re the Satan…”

 

“I would deeply appreciate if you went back to your own bed.”

 

“Uh-oh, Lewy baby is grumpy…”

 

“Get out or I will kick into your nicer side.”

 

“Alright, I’ve gone already!”

 

 

Marco retreats to his own room and tries to get some sleep. Unsuccessfully. It seems like his mind doesn’t let him relax until he can shake off the thoughts about Mario, but even egosurfing on Google is ineffective to do that. Maybe it’s about the present. Yeah, it must be that and Marco has to solve the problem before he turns into a crypt keeper from the lack of his well-deserved 11-hour sleep. Scrambling out from under the covers he strolls over to the bureau and gets himself a piece of paper and a pen. If Lewy doesn’t write for him, he can take the matter into his own hands. But there’s a tiny little problem: after half an hour of staring at the blank sheet, he only manages to scribble down two sentences.

 

_Hi Sunny. Happy birthday!_

 

Striking. Well, Marco has never been a man of words. Obviously. But, even a fool can write a love letter… shit, did he say love? That was a mistake, Marco is not that type who gets head over heels. And why is he drawing little round hearts around an M now? He didn’t even notice he started. Has he gone crazy? Jesus, he has to scratch them out as fast as possible before somebody sees it.

 

This is not his finest moment and unfortunately he’s on his own to deal with it. Or… No, that’s a bad idea. Marco sighs and rubs his eyes. It’s just a week till Mario’s birthday and he’s such a mess, he needs to take action. Fuck, the hell with this, drastic times call for drastic measures.

Taking his phone in hand, Marco dials Jerome's number.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, I've just seen Lewy scoring against Frankfurt... what a beauty that first goal was. :3


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The concert. Why is Lewy called Satan when he's more similar to a puppy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will come back to edit and correct mistakes, but I barely had time today for posting.

 

 

Jerome is horrified when he wakes up and sees the caller ID. Marco. At three in the morning. This must be just a nightmare. He already had to deal with Lewy around midnight when the idiot rambled about giant bugs circling around his chandelier and didn’t stop freaking out until Jerome told him to sleep in the side room instead of the bedroom. And now this.

He doesn’t talk much with Marco and only has his number because Lewy says if he’s not by his phone, he must be beating Marco’s stupid head somewhere. There’s still a chance that this is a pocket call, but he has only one way to find it out. Jerome takes a deep breath and picks up his phone.

 

“What shall I get Mario for his birthday?”

 

Yeah, this is Marco indeed, jumping straight to the point.

 

“You know what time it is?”

 

“Uhm… sorry, I guess?”

 

There’s no way for him to get out of this unless he answers Marco’s question, so Jerome rubs his forehead and suggests a solution.

 

“Try doing something personal.”

 

“Like origami?”

 

“Marco, please, I’m too tired for talking with a five-year-old.”

 

“I don’t know shit, please help!”

 

Jerome sighs. Marco isn’t an easy case.

 

“Okay. For example, if I were you, I would go for giving him… hm, some sort of culinary adventure.”

 

There’s a long silence on the other end and Jerome almost hangs up before Marco’s hesitant voice rings through the line.

 

“What… exactly do you mean?”

 

“Why, what do you think I mean?” Jerome asks back, because he’s tired as hell and just wants Marco to fuck off.

 

“So you suggest that I err… should give him… a taste of me?”

 

Good heavens, what’s wrong with his mind?

 

“No, you fool. I mean you should take him to a restaurant or cook for him. Though I doubt you can do the second.”

 

“Oh, great, I see.” Marco rambles and Jerome can detect the relief in his voice. “Thank you, good night.”

 

Without waiting for a reply, Marco hangs up and Jerome tosses his phone back on the bedside table with a groan.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jerome, Mario and Benni arrive about half an hour before the actual concert starts and there’s already a long line in front of the entrance, mostly teenage girls with grouchy boyfriends who seem to wish the Burning Sting into the bottom of a volcano. After they have taken their places and Benni has shared the story of his latest book Jerome looks around in the stadium for the first time and promptly goes wide-eyed at the insane amount of people waiting inside or trying to get in as soon as possible. It wouldn’t be a big thing, Lewy said. Bastard.

 

The opening act isn’t too bad, some parts are even enjoyable and the crowd applauds, but they all know when the real show gets started. All of a sudden, the tons of people erupt in screams at the sight of Marco’s smug face on the screens and Mario pokes Jerome’s side with his elbow, gesturing at the next figure who emerges from behind the walls.

 

“That costume keeps getting better.” Mario says, laughing, and Jerome just stares, because _holy shit_.

 

Lewy is wearing only a black vest on top, his fine abs are on full display, and two ragged demon wings are fastened to his back. His leather pants are so tight that Jerome can make out every curve of his butt as he walks along the stage and there is a pair of red horns on the top of his head. He clearly is satanic and Jerome honest to god aches to burn in his hell. A tinge of delight spreads through him at the thought that he will do just that once they get behind closed doors and those crazy chicks can drip their saliva and cry their eyes out without getting a piece.

 

The first song starts and Jerome gets slightly nauseous when half of the teenagers break out in hysterical tears. They will surely get severe hearing loss when all is said and done, but after the boys have performed a coordinated dance Jerome decides it's totally worth it.

 

A bunch of fireworks are going off from at least fifteen directions and the crowd shouts and bounces and sways until the whole stadium turns into a gigantic hive from the black and yellow ribbons falling from the air. The atmosphere is spine-tingling and Jerome can’t stop dancing and laughing with Mario. Even Benni gets a bit loosened up and when Mats does a certain hip movement - making the girls squealing in joy - he mutters a sarcastic comment with a smirk.

 

“It looks so much better in the bedroom.”

 

The hours fly by at the speed of lightning and Jerome can’t believe that the next will be the last song when Marco announces it’s only ten minutes until he can finally pull off his ugly tank top. Some girls start bawling again and Jerome is not surprised when Marco flashes a satisfied smile and asks them whether it would be okay if he discarded the garment before the song ends. Jerome isn’t sure if he hears more ‘Oh my god, yes’ or ‘Please spit on me’ shouts - which leaves serious doubts about the fans’ state of mind - but Marco seems to assume there’s more of the first and he gets rid of his cloth, throwing it into the crowd.

 

Although some people must have gotten black eyes or bleeding noses, the cheerful mood doesn’t dissolve and the _Your Venom_ starts. It really is a great song and for once there’re no interrupting yells when Mats runs to the front and whips out his solo. Jerome gets a bit carried away and almost closes his eyes when something catches his attention.

 

A man in security guard attire runs onto the stage and strolls right in the direction of Lewy who looks at him totally confused. The guy gets around five metres close before pulling out a baseball bat from under his coat. Jerome’s blood runs cold in the blink of an eye and he watches frozen to his spot as the attacker attempts to jump on his boyfriend. But he doesn’t reach his aim, because something flies through the air and makes hard contact with his head before he can get as much as a finger on Lewy. Jerome realises that it was Marco who saved the night with his guitar that lies broken on the ground now next to the unconscious attacker.

 

At this point everyone has noticed the problem and Mats stares at the scene with clear worry, but he finishes the song anyway. The last tune is over and the boys disappear, leaving their place to the dozens of security people running up to the stage in panic.

 

Jerome takes a glance at his friends and they share terrified looks before sprinting away from their VIP places. By the time they get backstage with the help of their pass cards Marco has already called off the afterparty and the paramedics are just about to leave since nobody got hurt. Benni runs inside the dressing room as though he is off his rocker and starts circling around Mats like a carousel.

 

“Mats, are you okay? Did you get hurt? Is there…” He is rambling while trying to detect any wound as much as a scratch on his boyfriend.

 

“Benni, hey… honey, stop.” Mats says in a vain attempt to keep Benni in place with getting hold of his shoulders.

 

“He could have thrown that baseball bat at you and you could have…”

 

“Benedikt. I was the farthest from him and he _didn’t_ throw that on me. I’m okay.”

 

Benni isn’t able to calm down though and at the end Mats has to call back the paramedics to give him some sedatives before he gets a heart attack. Jerome sees Mario hugging Marco and he wants to go and comfort Lewy, but he spots Sahin, the security chief, and he decides to share a few _very_ _kind_ words with him before. After five minutes of yelling he learns that a 1.9 metres tall athletic man with lost temper won’t scare a security guard no matter what, so he finishes his outrage with a glare and starts looking for his boyfriend.

 

He passes Mats, who is patting the head of a drowsy looking Benni in the moment, and makes his way past Marco and Mario as well. Strange as it may seem, but Marco looks okay with the happenings. In fact, he starts a lengthy self-glorification for Mario who listens with gleaming eyes and a megawatt grin, shifting on his feet and sliding his hands hesitantly in Marco’s.

 

Jerome leaves them behind and walks over to Lewy with a shake of his head and a small smile that disappears in an instant when he sees the slumped figure sitting on a chair at one of the dressing tables.

 

“Lewy, are you okay?”

 

There’s no answer, not even a movement and Jerome looks around to check if there’s anybody nearby before leaning closer and rubbing his hands along his boyfriend’s arms.

 

“Baby?”

 

Lewy glances up with his blues almost completely dark from his dilated pupils, then wraps his arms around Jerome’s waist and buries his face in his stomach.

 

“It’s okay.” Jerome murmurs, sliding his hands over Lewy’s back in a gentle caress. “I’m here.”

 

Lewy squeezes tighter, shaking like a leaf, and Jerome is stunned. He can’t do anything else than stroking his hair and wishing that Marco’s guitar hurt _a_ _lot._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might have noticed this fic will consist of thirty chapters after all.  
> I hope it's okay that the story will be that long and you will stay with me till the end! :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mario's birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like this :) 
> 
> I plan to finish this fic before the first half of May because I don't want to make a challenge between the Burning Sting and my exam studies. We all know which would win.

 

 

**Marco's POV**

 

After all, Marco has decided to take Mario to a restaurant, a very expensive one at that for the sake of showing off. Now they are in the private room that Marco asked for in the reservation and Mario excused himself to the bathroom. This is the perfect time for Marco to check his hair in his phone’s front camera. It was really embarrassing, but he tripped on the steps leading upwards and it’s not sure that his looks remained okay after he scrambled up from the floor.

 

“Selfies, already?” Mario says, coming back, and Marco may or may not look like a bar of butter in the microwave from the blinding smile he flashes. But he recovers soon enough to pull on Mario’s sleeve, tugging him closer.

 

“Come here, take one with me.”

 

Mario grins into the camera and Marco can’t help, but press a little peck to his puffy cheek when he takes the picture. The result totally worth Mario’s blush and the puzzled look they get from the waiter.

 

They eat the first dish quietly and awkwardly as hell, but after a glass of red wine Mario starts talking. He talks, talks and talks about everything that pops up in his mind from the dinner with his parents to Marco’s tattoos and Marco listens and hums and beams, unable to do anything else, because Mario’s so cute and nice and perfect and Marco… Oh God. He understood.

This is not liking, not simple craving, this is _it_. The realisation makes Marco so terrified that he gets close to fainting, the only reason why Mario doesn’t notice it is his impossibly white skin.

 

Marco has never been in love before, he has always been too lazy for all the wooing and dating and that emotional bonding bullshit just scared the fuck out of him. Until now. He’s completely out of his element, because all of a sudden he wants it so badly it hurts. He wants to hold Mario’s hand and tell him whatever Mats says to Benni and eat ice cream with him at midnight and buy him the most luxurious car he can and… and it would be a fatal disaster. Marco has never had a real boyfriend, only casual hook-ups and fleeting attraction and no, he definitely doesn’t have the basic skills for romance. It would be the same to expect a chicken to fly a mile. No, to expect that from a _peacock_. Yeah, that’s more like it.

 

“Marco? Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“Just asking.” Mario says with a sceptical expression. “You looked as if you had been hit on the head by a pipe.”

 

Close enough, but it was actually a daydream about making out on the swings in a park at dusk. Oh dear. Mario takes another sip from his glass, smiling at him over the rim. Marco needs an ambulance car. Now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

How safer this rental BMW’s backseat is than the well-lit restaurant. Mario can’t see the shade of his face and there’s a chance he won’t notice the quality of the hand-made present Marco has been suffering for.

 

“Happy birthday, Sunny, this is the other half of your gift.”

 

“Oh, what a nice monster.” Mario laughs, eyeing the blatantly ugly rubber band animal that Marco created during the last week.

 

“It’s actually an owl.”

Marco replies, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He has been so proud until now that he remembered the plush bird he saw on an afternoon at Mario’s, despite that Mario hid it faster than greased lightning.

 

After a few seconds of staring, Mario grins and shrugs. “Well, I like it.”

 

The chauffeur chooses this moment to start the engine, they pull away from the pavement and Marco sighs, happy and content. The ride passes uneventfully in comfortable silence and Marco spends it with watching Mario’s reflection in the window and contemplating about taking his hand. Way too soon to Marco’s liking, they arrive by Mario’s apartment building and Marco wants to cry in misery, because his heart refuses to beat at an appropriate speed.

 

“Thank you for this wonderful evening.”

 

“Anytime, Sunny.” Marco replies and he really means it. He gives a long, deep kiss as a goodbye and settles back in his seat, but Mario doesn’t move to open the car’s door.

 

“Do you want to…come in?” He asks with his eyes on his shoes and Marco gulps, because shit, this is an invitation that implies a lot.

 

“Of course.” He answers and grabs Mario’s hand.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll go get changed.” Mario says and he’s out of sight in a second, yelling back from another room. “We can watch a movie or just channel surf or...”

 

 _Anything you want, Sunny._ Marco undoes his tie and tries to loosen up his shirt, but his fingers are still trembling from the sudden realisation of his feelings and he keeps missing the buttonholes.

 

“Fuck, I can’t handle this shirt.” Marco curses just as Mario comes back in a faded T-shirt and sweatpants.

 

“Come here, silly.” Mario murmurs with a chuckle and reaches up to help him. Their fingers brush and Marco takes hold of Mario’s hands before they can unbutton the shirt. Mario looks up and the edge of his lips twitch into a small smile before he takes a brief glance at Marco’s mouth. Marco is jittery from anticipation and completely speechless when Mario stands on his tiptoes and in the same time pulls him down by the two ends of the tie. He sees that Mario has shut his eyes and he feels his breath on his lips before they close the distance.

 

The kiss is soft and there’s no hunger, only the gentle savouring of each other and the cheerful playing of their tongues. Mario’s hands let go of the tie and move to his chest instead as Marco’s fingers stroke his hair behind his ears. They’ve never kissed like this before. Marco can’t put a finger on it, but somehow it feels different.

 

They part and Marco slides his hands tentatively to the hem of Mario’s shirt. Mario’s face starts reddening, but he doesn’t otherwise react and Marco pulls the garment off with a brave move. Mario seems close to tears from anxiety and Marco hurries to clear his doubts away. He leans closer and presses small kisses to Mario’s chin and the way down to his neck. When he reaches his pulse point he can’t hold back his possessive inside-beast and sucks a hickey into the fragrant skin, saying with the mark that everybody else can back off from his Sunny if they don’t wanna visit the closest graveyard soon.

 

He feels Mario’s fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, and with one last bite, he leaves the abused neck. After giving him a few pecks, Marco wraps his arms around Mario’s waist and drops down to his knees. He doesn’t mind that he won’t get off this way, he doesn’t even think about it, Mario is the only thing that counts.

 

But it wasn’t the best idea at this point, because Mario tenses under his palms, then trembles and in the next moment he’s out of Marco’s reach. He runs into the bathroom, locks himself there and Marco can’t do anything else than going after him and leaning his head against the door. They’re back to step one.

 

“Mario, please, open the door.”

 

“No. You will be disgusted by me.” The reply comes out muffled and dangerously close to a sob and Marco never would have thought that things can go from heaven to hell at this speed.

 

 “I would never be disgusted by you. Just come out, we don’t have to do anything. Sunny, please… If you don’t want more, I won’t force you, I just want to show you how much I love…”

 

Shit, shit, shit. He slipped. Congrats, Marco, it’s over, get ready for your heart being shattered. Marco winces and moves away from the door, bracing himself for Mario’s – hopefully - kind rejection. He waits, but there’s silence on the other side and hope starts rising in his mind against his every will to suppress it.

 

“What?” Mario says eventually and Marco notices that his voice comes from closer to the door, as if he has pressed himself against it just like Marco a few minutes before.

 

“I won’t force you if you don’t want more.”

Marco repeats and prays that they can move on from there. For his great surprise, Mario opens the door and takes a hesitant step forward.

 

“No. What did you say at the end?”

 

He asks, looking into Marco’s eyes pleadingly and with such raw honesty that Marco thinks he has been shot by cupid’s arrow twice in a row.

 

“I think I love you, Sunny.” He whispers, barely audibly, but it still feels like shouting in the empty corridor.

 

Mario takes another step forth and runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Are you serious?”

 

Marco bites into his lower lip, but he knows he can’t stop this free fall.

“Never been more in my entire life.”

 

He doesn’t expect Mario to throw himself into his arms, he doesn’t expect him to kiss him like a lunatic and most of all, he doesn’t expect their teeth clashing together _that_ hard. Aw.

 

“Oh my… I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Mario rambles and strokes Marco’s arms as if it can ease the pain.

 

The ache fades away and a rush of desire runs through Marco’s body, because Mario is still half-naked and… Fuck, Marco likes that sight, he has no idea why Mario is shy. With a sudden superhero force he gets out of the blue, Marco cradles Mario into his arms and makes his way towards the bedroom. They get there successfully and without any injury, though Marco was afraid at one point when he knocked down a painting from the wall.

 

He puts Mario down and they kiss until Marco tumbles backwards from the passion and ends up lying in the bed with Mario straddling his hips. He slides his hands over Mario’s ass and squeezes, getting a quiet giggle in response. Just as he’s about to pull the last offending clothes off his Sunny, something lets out a loud, high-pitched noise, more like a meow, and Mario jumps in his embrace.

 

“Jesus…Woody scared me.”

He snickers and Marco takes a glance to the side, sees the kitten next to the bedside table. Mario’s hands crawl into his boxers now and oh, this is pure paradise…but… but that annoying furball keeps sitting there and stares at them, creeping the hell out of Marco.

 

“Sunny…”

 

Mario stops immediately and starts to pull back, his eyes wide in panic.

“I did something wrong, right? Sorry, I’m…”

 

Marco strangles his next words with a kiss before explaining the problem.

 

“It’s just the cat.”

 

The totally confused Mario on top of him looks at the kitten and shrugs. “What’s with him?”

 

“He’s watching us, Mario, I can see the expectations, the judgement in his eyes.”

 

Well, that sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, no surprise that Mario’s laughter fills the room in the next moment. By the time Mario gets himself together Marco’s manliness has suffered critical damage from shame and it’s only pure luck and Mario’s damn sexy body that he’s able to go on once Woody has gotten out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

All added together, it would be an understatement to say that Marco had a great night. Not because he got laid – though it was his ultimate best - but because now he can hold Mario close to his body without being afraid of consequences. A giant rock has been lifted off his chest with that confession and he’s halfway off to dreamland with a smile on his face when the vibrations of Mario’s voice run through his body.

 

“Marco?”

 

He answers only with a mumble, his lips pressed to Mario’s neck. This moment is so perfect, Marco couldn’t have imagined better.

 

“I love you too.”

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had two total breakdowns in three days with a shitload of tears, because I got fed up with stress and absence and my Alcatraz of a family... so sorry if this chapter sucks or the next updates will take some time. 
> 
> That being said, have fun reading. :)

 

 

Lewy’s holding his still full mug of tea and Jerome sighs, takes it out of his hands.

 

“We should go out. Watch a movie or… I don’t know, for a dinner maybe.” Lewy hums and Jerome nuzzles into his cheek.

“Or we can just take a walk in the park. It’s dark enough that you won’t be recognised.”

 

When Lewy leans his head against Jerome’s forehead Jerome could swear he heard a small chuckle. That’s a good sign and it makes him more resolute than ever to get Lewy out of his room. It has been almost a week, he needs to breathe fresh air.

 

“The lindens have started to blossom, we can sit under one and relax, listen to the birds…”

 

He trails off as Lewy turns and smiles a little. “Sounds good, baby.”

 

Is that possible? They will really go for a walk? Jerome can’t believe it and is about to stand up when the third person in the room speaks up.

 

“Mr. Lewandowski, I advise you to stay in the hotel until…”

 

“I advise you to shut the fuck up.”

 

Jerome knows he shouldn’t have snapped at Sahin, but he wasn’t able to hold himself back. If it wasn’t for that terrible security chief who appointed himself as a temporary bodyguard, Lewy would have gotten out of the blues ages ago. They have been doing this for quite a while, Jerome trying to coax Lewy out to the natural lights and the stupid _‘I have worked with ministers before’_ guard destroying every considerable development.

And again, it was too early for cheering, Lewy has closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands.  Jerome’s hopes vanished, so he settles for glaring at Sahin while stroking Lewy’s neck. This is a proven method they established in the last few days and it usually ends with…

 

“I think I’ll go and try to get some sleep.”

Lewy says, standing up, and takes Jerome’s hand to drag him along to the bed. At least Sahin won’t come in there with them, though Jerome is sure he does that only in the fear of getting literally kicked out.

 

“You know that guy was schizophrenic and he has been taken to a hospital.” Jerome says and starts unbuttoning Lewy’s shirt once Sahin has disappeared into the side room and the door is closed behind him.

 

“I know, but…”

 

He doesn’t finish the sentence, it’s not necessary, they both know what the problem is. The shirt is off and Jerome places small kisses onto Lewy’s neck and collarbone.

 

“No need to be afraid. We would go together and I think no sane person would attack you with me by your side.”

 

“Sorry, Jerome.”

 

He pushes Lewy onto the bed, lies next to him and leaves one hand on his stomach.

 

“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.”

 

The whispered words linger in the air as Lewy entwines their fingers and that’s pretty much the last thing Jerome remembers before falling asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s around nine on the first Saturday night of June and Jerome is lying in his bed with closed eyes, totally worn-out. His last week was a blurry of work, Lewy, whiny Bastian, Lewy, shouting with Sahin and Lewy again. Despite all his efforts, there’s still close to none progress and he can’t sleep from worry. Maybe he should ask for Marco’s help, he owes Jerome one after what Mario told them circa fifty times. Uh no, Jerome’s not a masochist, he won’t call that idiot.

 

His phone on the bedside table goes off and Rihanna’s voice fills the room. Jerome doesn’t need to look at the caller ID to know who that is, the ringtone is enough of a clue. He groans, waits a minute for a miracle to happen, then picks it up, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Jerome, you need to get here immediately.”

 

“Nice try, Basti. I won’t take the bar for you.”

 

“Fuck the bar. Lewy is here.”

 

Jerome sits up in his bed with wide eyes. “What?”

 

“He’s here and already drunk as hell.”

 

Oh Jesus. Jerome hasn’t seen Lewy drunk yet, but from Bastian’s tone he guesses it’s nothing good.

“I’m coming. Would you please…”

 

“I’m already looking after him, just hurry.”

 

“Thanks, Basti.”

 

Jerome hangs up, calls a cab and leaves the apartment in record time.

 

* * *

 

 

It turns out that Lewy is a moody drunk and the more he drinks the more he wants. The worst is that he apparently switched to Polish, because as soon as he sees Jerome he shouts _‘Cześć ślicznotko 1’_ and tries to go over to him, only Basti’s grip holding him in place and surely on his feet as well. Jerome hurries over to them and takes Basti’s place, throwing one of Lewy’s arms around his shoulders.

 

“Is he okay?”

 

“Yeah, but really tiring.”

 

Jerome lets out a breath and thanks his flatmate before taking in the surroundings. His blood starts boiling in the moment when he spots Sahin on one of the barstools, looking calm and even bored. He ignores the quiet protests and whimpering from Lewy and they stumble over to him.

 

“You don’t let him out with me, but give him the go-ahead to drown himself in alcohol. You’re a great bodyguard, really.”

 

“My contract is about…’

 

Jerome doesn’t care about the answer, so he turns around without waiting for the end of the sentence. He shoots Bastian a grateful look and starts dragging Lewy out of the bar and towards the elevators. Sahin follows them without saying a word and only stops when they’ve reached Lewy’s suite and Jerome turns to face him.

 

“Go back to the bar or wherever you want, but leave us alone tonight.”

 

With that, Jerome shuts the door into Sahin’s face and tries to will his anger away. After he has kicked off his shoes and successfully pulled off Lewy’s thanks to some wonder, they walk further inside. He keeps a firm hold on Lewy’s waist and they manage to cross the room without causing damage. But just as Lewy steps on the carpet in front of the bed, he shudders violently, leans forward and promptly throws up.

 

“Great.” Jerome huffs and walks his boyfriend to the bed.

 

He runs to the bathroom for the swab and cleans what he can, keeping an eye on the swaying figure at the edge of the bed. Once the last drops are swiped away, he goes back to Lewy and starts undressing him.

 

“Przykro mi…2”

 

Jerome pulls off Lewy’s shirt and helps him out of his trousers as well, listening to mumbled Polish words meanwhile. He’s about to push him under the covers when Lewy jumps up all of a sudden and sprints into the corner of the room, letting out ridiculous shrieks.

 

“What again?”

 

“Istnieje Pająk!3” 

 

Wishing he can understand those garbled syllables, Jerome strolls over to him and tries to pull him back to the bed. Lewy still looks terrified and starts pointing at something and Jerome’s attempts to hush him are totally ineffective.

 

“Shh…” He says and hugs him, but Lewy doesn’t stop wriggling in his embrace until Jerome lets him go and reluctantly looks where he is pointing.

 

And there it is, a fairly big spider with black, furry legs. It’s not that chicken stealer type, but still big enough that Jerome doesn’t want to catch it with bare hands. He sighs, rubs his forehead and drops a kiss to the top of Lewy’s head. He goes to the door, picks up a shoe and hurries back inside. By the time he gets back, Lewy has curled up in one corner of the bed and started crying. Jerome knows it’s just the alcohol’s effect, but his heart aches anyway.

 

After the spider problem is solved with a loud thump and an ‘ew’, Jerome switches off the lights and slides in next to his boyfriend, adjusting their positions until both of them are lying snug under the blanket.

 

Lewy scoots close to him and presses his face into Jerome’s chest. He’s still weeping over nothing in particular, but Jerome knows it would be useless to reason with him in this drunken state. Instead, he wraps his arms around him and draws soothing circles into his skin with his fingers until he drifts off to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Jerome.” He hears Lewy’s voice and feels gentle caressing on his cheek. Jerome decides he deserves a few more minutes and doesn’t move, feigning sleep.

 

“Come on. I know you’re awake.”

 

When he still doesn’t answer, Lewy bites into his shoulder. Jerome snickers and cracks his eyes open, immediately regretting it when he goes cross-eyed, trying to focus on Lewy only centimetres from him.  But it’s a lost case now, he won’t be able to get back to sleep anymore. So he moves away a bit and looks up at the fond face hovering over him. He waits for a second before reaching out and burying his fingers in Lewy’s hair, stroking his forehead with his thumb.

 

“How’s your pretty head?”

 

Lewy’s affectionate expression clears away and the well-known signs of exaggerated agony take its place. “Awful.”

 

Jerome grins and changes their positions, getting on top of Lewy and pinning him into the mattress with his whole body.

 

“You’re such a fool, Lewy.”

 

“I’m your fool.”

 

That’s so cliché, but still, Jerome can’t suppress his giggle. Lewy cracks up as well, they laugh together and share a lazy kiss before Lewy pulls away and looks up like a lost puppy.

 

“Hey. Where has that smile gone?” Jerome asks, pressing his thumb to the corner of Lewy’s mouth. The good mood disappears when Lewy remains quiet, bites into his bottom lip and casts down his eyes.

 

“Baby?”

 

After an excruciatingly long silence, finally there’s an answer. “I want to go home.”

 

Well, it would have been better if he didn’t say anything. Jerome’s face falls and he tries to hide it with dropping his head onto Lewy’s shoulder. He wants to go home. To fucking Dortmund. Jerome knew they would come to this eventually, but he hoped they would have more time until then.

 

“Back to Poland, I mean.”

 

He jerks his head up and frowns. “Poland?”

 

“Yeah, just for a few weeks.”

 

A few weeks? Why the hell is he so nervous if it’s just about weeks, not years or more? A couple weeks are like a holiday and Jerome has almost started crying a few seconds ago. One day Lewy’s uncertainty is going to kill him.

 

“And… I want to take you with me. You know… introduce you to my family.”

 

Lewy stares at him with his hopeful blue eyes and Jerome can’t do anything else than gaping. He gets the hesitancy now. It’s not about ending the relationship, it’s about raising it to a whole new level. And this is where things start getting serious.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1Hi cutie.  
> 2I’m sorry.  
> 3There’s a spider!
> 
>  
> 
> I've just read madanach's fic "they were a long hallway" and it's a damn masterpiece, I recommend you to read it if you ship Schweinski or like reading stories about them.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff with Benni and Mats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay! I don't think I will be able to keep the deadline I set for myself which makes me really upset, but it happens, there's nothing to do about it.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter anyway. :)

 

 

 

**Benni's POV**

 

If tomorrow Benni has to lie in bed from pneumonia, it will be Mats’ fault. His and Benni’s umbrella’s, that’s probably a gift of Benni’s grandma from ages ago.

“I can’t open it!”

Benni shouts, but Mats has already started running to the end of the Pont des Arts. He turns and smiles back and Benni throws away the vintage item, grinning as he sets off after him, towards the Louvre.

This is their fourth day in Paris and Benni never wants to leave. It was Mats idea to come here for a vacation of a sort and though Benni was uncomfortable with the fact that he didn’t have the money to pay for his own half, he couldn’t say no to this. They chose the perfect time, the middle of June, so Benni ditched Löw’s awful party and they had a pleasantly warm and sunny weather. Except this evening, of course.

“I’m not a damn athlete, Mats!” Benni yells again, but Mats just laughs, looks back at him time to time as if he wants to be chased.

Fortunately, their hotel is close and Benni makes it there without spewing out his lungs, but nevertheless it’s a close thing. Mats comes to a halt in front of him and they are still outside in the pouring rain in thin shirts that are soaked and stick to their bodies. Benni doesn’t have time to catch his breath before Mats hauls him up and kisses him, his lips remain curved up from the endless smiling. The cold raindrops make Benni shiver and he tries to wriggle out of the embrace in vain, thinking about the absurdity of dying this way from the lack of oxygen. They part and whilst Benni feels only lucky to breathe finally, Mats smirks and slides his hands into the back pockets of Benni’s jeans.

“Let’s move this inside.” He says against Benni’s lips and squeezes for emphasise before letting go and strolling away towards the hotel entrance.

By the time Benni gets inside and up in their room - taking the stairs because the elevator is under maintenance – Mats is already shirtless and has a scheming look on his face.

Benni collapses on the bed, not caring about wet clothes and his smug boyfriend, and closes his eyes.

“Shut up.” He says, because he doesn’t need to see Mats to hear the stifled laughter.

“I didn’t say a word.” Mats protests and the mattress dips in the next second. “You looked great out there by the way. So flushed and out of breath.”

“I hate you.” Benni grumbles, but he knows it’s half-hearted and sounds more like a pleading to be left alone with his shame of nearly dying from 700 metres.

His shirt slides up and Mats takes it off, replaces it with his hands and mouth. He grazes Benni’s neck with his teeth before moving down to his abdomen, kissing and leaving marks all the way to his happy trail.  One of his hands opens Benni’s trousers and slides in, just to the rim of the boxers. Benni shivers in anticipation as Mats nuzzles into his stomach and he pets Mats’ hair, encourages him to do something, _anything._

“You should take a bath.” Mats murmurs against his skin, fingers still playing with the band of Benni’s underwear, driving Benni crazy.

“Uh, no…” Benni says and tries to keep his boyfriend in place when he moves to stand up. “Mats, come back here.”

But Mats just chuckles, shakes his head and pulls him up by his hands.

“I don’t want a bath, I want you.” Benni practically whines and jumps away when Mats tries to smack his ass.

* * *

 

Needless to say, Benni is pouting all the way to the bathroom and swears he won’t ever talk to his boyfriend again. But as soon as he steps over the threshold he forgets everything and looks around in disbelief. Mats walks over to the bathtub and turns on the faucet, then goes back to him and strokes his cheek.

“You lit candles for me?” Benni asks and Mats smiles, kisses him instead of an answer.

The little flames light up the room with a warm orange shade and it’s a sharp contrast with the grey, rainy sky that can be seen through the small window. The whole atmosphere is wonderful and Benni realises that he really, really wants that long bath after being soaked to the bones.

“Do you like it?”

Yeah, Benni likes it, moreover, he’s overwhelmed. But he’s still a bit sullen about that previous teasing, so he only nods at Mats’ question and starts undressing quietly.

“Enough to stop sulking?” Mats goes on and runs his hand over Benni’s back with a smile.

Benni narrows his eyes and shrugs, considers his alternatives.

“Okay, I might forgive you if you bath with me.” He says and goes to the tub, slides into the hot water and closes his eyes with a sigh.

“Great.” He hears Mats say and a minute later the water swashes. Benni’s pulled towards the other end of the bathtub and he goes willingly, lets Mats turn him and wrap his arms around his waist.

They settle against each other in comfortable silence and Benni leans back into Mats, letting his head fall onto Mats’ shoulder.

“This is the best holiday I’ve ever had.” Benni says after several minutes with a content smile and Mats presses a kiss to his temple.

“It would be even better if you let me reserve a suite in the Hotel du Louvre.” Mats’ fingers are tugging on his ear and Benni has to swat at him, scowling.

“I don’t want to spend my vacation with people who are rolling in money.”

“Yeah, ‘cause a rundown three star hotel is better.”

“First off, this place isn’t rundown. It’s not my fault that you’re spoiled.” Mats snorts and leans down for a kiss that starts off hard, but ends up slow and gentle.

“Second?” He asks, lips close to Benni’s forehead, and his index finger draws random forms on Benni’s arm.

“Hmm…”

“Benni.” Mats nips at his jaw and Benni snaps back to reality.

“Oh, sorry. What second?”

The vibrations from Mats’ short and quiet laugh send jolts of happiness to Benni’s heart. “First, I am spoiled. What is the next one?”

Benni doesn’t remember. His mind isn’t at its best, the cosiness slows all his thoughts down. So he just shrugs and squeezes one of Mats’ hands.

“Second, I love you.”

There’s a minute of silence before Mats replies in a mocking tone. “You’d better. My back aches from sleeping on that shitty mattress.”

“Okay, Matsi, you’ve done it now.”

“What?”

Benni crosses his arms over his chest and pouts, not looking at his boyfriend. “You can dream about getting laid after this, you brat.”

Mats hums and tangles his legs with Benni’s under the water’s surface.

“I wouldn’t say such big things.” He drawls and sucks a hickey into Benni’s neck, his hands drop to Benni’s hips for a moment before sliding on top of his crotch.

Benni gasps and blushes furiously, making Mats laugh a little.

“Me too.” Mats says and pulls him closer, leaving no doubt about his own state of arousal.

 

* * *

 

 

Benni has goosebumps from head to toe and not entirely from the cold of the sheets. He doesn’t care that he’s still slippery from the bath, that he has foam on his shoulder and there’s water dripping on his face from Mats’ hair, because two fingers are sliding in and out of him and that moan couldn’t be from his mouth, no way.

“Mats…just go on...” He tries to say and hopefully succeeds to be comprehensible.

“Sure?”

Benni just nods, closes his eyes and braces himself. There’s the familiar pressing and some hurt, making him clench his teeth, but Mats is finally in and Benni squirms, wants to get him move, _right_ _now._

They kiss and Mats murmurs against his lips. “We’ve finished the recording.”

“What?” Benni breathes. “Stop talking…oh, you” He doesn’t finish the sentence, a sudden movement in the right angle steals the words from his mouth.

The bed creaks as they move and these walls are probably made of paper, Benni can hear shouting from another room.

“We will go back to Dortmund.”

Dortmund… black and yellow and Marco and Mats and oh, Mats is so good. Benni can taste him and smell his body, feel the muscles under his palms with every move. Something breaks in the other room, people are arguing. Hm, Benni’s heart swells with pride that he’s constantly in seventh heaven with Mats, he would let out a cry at every harder thrust to show it to the world if he wasn’t so shy.

“In a…month or so.”

“Keep going.” Did he say that already? Never mind… Mats should put his hands to use as well, yeah, just like that. Damn, Benni’s so close.

“Benni.”

Mats, Mats, Mats... Benni kisses him and he’s tipped over the edge in the next moment.

“Would you…” Mats’ ripped-raw voice fills the room and Benni blacks out for a second from the waves of pleasure that run through him. “…with me?”

He can’t process comprehensible thoughts until Mats comes too and drops down next to him, panting. And even after that, what did he just say? Words are floating at the verge of his mind, recording and Dortmund and some request, maybe, but he can’t put the pieces together. He barely makes up the energy to roll onto his side and cuddle close to his boyfriend. Only the neighbours’ angry yelling can be heard, perhaps a couple tired of each other, as their breathing slowly turns back to normal. Benni almost falls asleep when Mats’ tenses in his embrace.

“Benedikt.”

Mats called him by his whole name, that sounds way too serious for Benni’s liking.

“I’ve been thinking.” That’s never a good start. “And… I don’t think that long distance relationships can last.”

No, no, no, please take that back. Benni doesn’t want to end it like this. He’s all for long suffering instead, but he needs more like this Paris trip. He needs more of them together.

“So… what do you say?”

“About what?” Benni just hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate and he moves to rest on his elbow and tries to read Mats’ expression.

“About Dortmund.” Mats whispers and Benni starts panicking. He shakes his head vigorously and crawls on top of Mats.

“Please don’t end this, we can make it work, Mats, I know you…” He’s cut off by a kiss and Mats cups his cheeks with his hands.

“You didn’t hear me, did you?” Benni frowns and Mats averts his gaze, moving his hands to stroke along Benni’s arms. “I asked… Would you come to Dortmund and live with me?”

The sudden silence fills the room with tension and Benni just gapes, relief and surprise and so much love running through his head that he can’t form a word.

“I know it was a silly thought.” Mats starts rambling. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, about a house on the outskirts with a swing bed in the garden, watching the Revierderby together, maybe having a dog, a retriever surely and… whatever, it’s ridiculous.”

He wants to say more, but Benni presses their foreheads together and laughs, his hands roaming over Mats’ sides and shoulders.

“Yes.” Benni says and bumps their noses together. “Yes for Dortmund, for the puppy and even for the fucking Revierderby as long as we don’t buy tickets to the Südtribüne.”

Mats blinks, once, twice, then breaks into a chesire grin, shifts to give Benni a tight hug.

“Seems like I have to start looking for a new job.”

Benni gets only an eye roll as a reply before Mats sits up, holds him on his lap and winks with a smirk. “So, round two?”

 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome's first evening in Warsaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lewy's family in this story has nothing to do with his real life family aside their names.
> 
> I was late again, but now you have a slightly longer chapter so that I can make up for the delay. All mistakes are mine and hopefully I will notice and correct them later. :)
> 
> I can't believe this story reached over 5800 hits, crazy. Thank you for that constant interest and the comments and kudos as well, your feedback really means a lot even if I'm shit at expressing it. :)

 

 

“What if they don’t like me?”

Jerome was relatively okay until they arrived, but now he’s a bundle of nerves, his basic instinct to flee has come back strong.

“There's no chance for that, baby.”

“But…”

Lewy turns around and kisses him, just a quick touch of lips against lips.

“You make their son happy.” He says, brushes their noses together. “That’s all what counts.”

Jerome wants to protest, wants to yank his hand out of his boyfriend’s and _run_ , but Lewy has already pressed on the doorbell. A moment later the door flies open and reveals a short woman with curly brown hair and a dazzling smile.

“Robert, kochanie moje. Nareszcie!*” She coos and kisses Lewy’s cheeks with so much enthusiasm that Jerome is surprised he doesn’t see waves of happiness pouring off her face. The woman turns and looks at him, making him feel like he’s standing in an oven.

“Oh, you must be Jerome.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lewandowski.” Jerome mumbles, glad that she switched to German and her voice isn’t really accented. He keeps fidgeting, tries not to look nervous and fails miserably whilst Lewy’s mother rolls her eyes and waves at him with a smile.

“Just Iwona.”

She gives him a tight hug and Jerome stays frozen to his place, stares at Lewy, who mouths _‘told you!’_ and grins happily. They hear yelling from inside and Iwona yelps, rushes back.

“This must be your father, I hope he didn’t burn down the kitchen…” Her rambling fades away as she disappears behind the front door and Jerome lets out a breath as Lewy wraps his arms around his neck.

“Calm down, baby. You see, everything will be okay.”

He leans in and kisses Jerome with closed mouth, just enough to soothe his nerves. They get lost in the moment till somebody coughs loudly and they jump away from each other in surprise, though Lewy leaves his hand on Jerome’s shoulder.

“Geez, I really wish you could keep it in your pants, Rob, at least until I am off to my bae.” A slim red-haired girl says from a few steps away, casually leaning against the wall and picking at her colourful nails.

“Always good to see you, Milly.” Lewy deadpans and takes Jerome’s hand, tugs him towards the entrance. They walk past the girl and Jerome offers a small smile, Lewy simply ignores her. She lets out an exasperated sigh and tears Jerome’s hand out of Lewy’s, grips his elbow and shoves Lewy away.

“By the way I’m Milena, the sister of that rude asshole you happen to be dating if I’m correct. You may call me Mil, Milly or Beauty Queen of the World, I’m fine with whichever you choose.”

Lewy snorts and tries to push himself between them, but Milena is more stubborn than letting him and the three of them nearly fall over when they step over the threshold of the living room.

“Just so you know, I like your name and for a while I’ve been thinking about giving it to one of my future children. Of course that would be only after my wedding because Papa would never let me get further than a kiss until then.” She pushes Jerome onto one of the couches and plops down next to him, leaving no chance for Lewy to sit close to his boyfriend.

“And that’s why I envy you. I mean, you can have sex all the time without him batting an eyelash, that’s not fair.” She goes on with her rather loud speech and successfully kicks the shin of her brother who hovers over them. “But one thing just can’t fit into my mind. How can you put up with that bony ass of his?”

Jerome wouldn’t have been able to speak even if he wanted to because Milena starts a hand-to-hand fight with Lewy and their father steps into the room at the same time. Lewy stills immediately and seems decent enough to be embarrassed about his childish behaviour as he takes Jerome’s hand and they walk over to Mr. Lewandowski.

“Papa, this is Jerome, my boyfriend. And Jerome, this is my father.”

Krzysztof Lewandowski is the complete look-alike of his son, only thirty years older, and Jerome sees now where the piercing blue eyes come from. They shake hands and when he takes in the ridiculous apron the man’s wearing, Jerome has to suppress a chuckle.

“We were so excited to finally meet you, Robbie always talks about you on the phone. It was a great surprise when he said you would come, he never brings anyone home.”

Mr. Lewandowski’s tone turns a little accusing at the end while Jerome just smiles politely and they both glance at Lewy, but he seems busy looking at his shoes with red cheeks.

“Thank you for inviting me to this nice home, Mr. Lewandowski.” Jerome keeps up the small talk and elbows his boyfriend's side in desperate need of help.

“Anytime, Jerome, anytime. Gosh, you haven’t even seen the garden, you have to take a look at my roses…”

“I wouldn’t go see those flowers if I were you, Papa will keep you there for an eternity, because _‘roses are the gems of a garden’_. Actually those plants look like crap, but nobody dares telling it to Papa, he's so obsessed with them.”

“Milena!”

She just shrugs, stands up and strolls out of the room, followed by his father’s disapproving gaze. When she disappears he shakes his head and turns back to Jerome.

“Reckless little thing. She’s seventeen and has already started testing my limits.”

Jerome laughs, partially in amusement and mostly in relief that Lewy’s father is nice to him. He listens in silence to a detailed argument between his boyfriend and Mr. Lewandowski about the importance of gardening until Mrs. Lewandowski emerges from the kitchen.

“Stop bickering, boys, dinner is ready.”

 

* * *

 

 

They eat tomato soup, roast and fries, various kind of vegetables and the dessert is a poppy seed roll called _makowiec_. Jerome feels pretty full from the loads of food he has been fed with by Mrs. Lewandowski, who seems to have no other aim in life than _‘getting him into healthier shape’_. He tries to get Lewy’s support, but he just grins at him and watches with gleaming eyes as Jerome has to unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt. After the dishes have been finally cleared away from the table, Jerome is sure he can only roll instead of walking from then on.

 “So, Jerome. We heard you graduated as an electrical engineer.” Mr. Lewandowski says to avoid silence.

That wasn’t even a question, but Lewy jumps in to reply, obviously looking for an opportunity to talk until his mouth goes numb.

“Yeah and he graduated summa cum laude, Mum, can you believe it? I think I would have never made it through the first exam.”

Jerome gives him a sharp look and tries to intervene.

“It really wasn’t that hard…”

“Those Mathematics they do there are insane, you have to be a genius to comprehend those formulas and calculations. His flatmate does the same course and I’ve seen some of his books. I’ve even read a page and honestly didn’t understand a word of it, I swear.”

“Lewy.”

“What?”

“Stop exaggerating. Even if it was like that, I did nothing with my degree.”

“That’s bullshit, you have a great job.”

“I’m working in an office.”

“Yeah, and your work is so important, a lot of people depend on what you do and…”

Jerome shakes his head, but knowing that he can say anything and have no effect, he lets Lewy boast. In turn, Lewy puts his hand onto his thigh under the table and leaves it there for the rest of the dinner, making it impossible for the warmth in Jerome’s chest to disappear.

* * *

 

The sky has turned dark outside and Milena has been texting on her phone for more than an hour when Lewy lets out a huge yawn and they realise it might be time to call it a night.

“Thank you for the delicious food and this wonderful evening, Mrs. Lewandowski.” Jerome says and blushes when Lewy’s mother reaches over the table and grips his hand with a warm smile.

“No need to thank me, sweetie. And I’ve told you not to call me on that name.”

“Sorry…Iwona.”

“Krzysztof, please show Jerome his bed.” Mr. Lewandowski must have dozed off, because he jolts back to awareness with a loud snort and confused half-questions. Iwona glares at him and prods him in the ribs to make him stand up.

“Go help the boys with the luggage. They will sleep in Robert’s old room.”

“Mom!” Milena straightens up and exclaims, resentment written all over her face.

“What’s it, Milly?”

“I can never sleep with my boyfriend, then why can he?”

“Because you’re seventeen.”

“But I’m more mature than Rob, just look at him.” She whines, points at Lewy who is trying to steal a slice of the dessert from the far end of the table without standing up or falling off his chair.

“Milena, Robert is a grown up man even if he doesn’t show it, so he does whatever he wants. As long as you’re underage, you do what _your father_ and _I_ want.”

“But Mom…”

“End of discussion.” Iwona says firmly and Milena scowls, throws her hands up and stomps out of the room. Her parents sigh in unison before eventually Mr. Lewandowski moves and gestures for Jerome and Lewy to follow him.

 

* * *

 

 

Lewy calls dibs on the bathroom and runs away as soon as they are in his old room, so Jerome’s left alone with his father. They put the suitcases next to the wardrobe and arrange the bedsheets, then Mr. Lewandowski clears his throat to get Jerome’s attention.

“Can I have a word with you?”

Jerome gulps and nods, dark scenarios he imagined before arriving are coming back to his mind. They sit on the edge of the bed and Lewy’s father coughs a few times, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

“Uhm… so I guess this is the same as it’s with Milly’s boyfriends… because I have no illusions, you know, about twenty-something guys and sex…”

Jerome already wishes he was somewhere around the North Pole now and didn’t have to listen to the most awkward conversation of his life, but he has no chance, it’s one big Catch 22.

“So, how shall I say this… Use condoms.”

“Mr. Lewandowski…”

“No, no, please listen to me, my son. I’m a man so I know that men want it as quickly as possible. I also know that you’re over the experimenting part and that he can’t get pregnant, but there are a lot of diseases and stuff, so… give those few minutes for safety, okay?”

Oh Jesus. Why is it necessary for every parent to give moral lessons to their children’s partners? Right now, in this moment Jerome swears he will never ever do this if he has an own child. No way.

“Of course Mr. Lewandowski, I would never do any harm to Robert.”

“Right. Because if you do, I would…. I would do the same to you.” Well, in this current context Jerome deeply wish that he wouldn’t, but he doesn’t form a comment and keeps his mouth shut instead.

“And please, for God’s sake, don’t do any… bondage or whatever weird shit that is.”

That’s the moment when Jerome’s muscles tense to jump up and get out of the room, good impressions and politeness long forgotten. Fortunately, Lewy chooses the exact same time to come back from his shower, fresh, cheerful and smelling of shower gel.

“Oh, hey, what are you talking about?” He asks, flashing his teeth in a smile, and Mr. Lewandowski stands up.

“Uhm, nothing, just about the mechanics of my new car.”

Lewy raises an eyebrow as he collapses on the bed, but lets it slide and says goodnight to his father, who leaves the room in a strange rush. Jerome runs a hand over his hair, shakes his head, then gathers his things and takes a step towards the door before Lewy stops him. He pulls Jerome back by his belt loops and wraps his arms around his hips with a small smile at the edge of his lips.

 “It went really well.” He says and Jerome reaches down, strokes the short hairs on Lewy’s nape.

 “Yeah. Although I think I won’t be able to eat a bite more for a month.”

Lewy snickers and nuzzles Jerome’s abdomen, mumbles something muffled that Jerome can’t hear.

“What’s so alluring in my stomach?” Jerome asks, laughter bubbling in his voice as he half-heartedly tries to get away from the embrace.

“Everything.” Lewy hums, starts pulling Jerome’s shirt out of the trousers.

“I have to take a shower.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Lewy…” Jerome giggles, wriggles out of the hold. “I’ll be back soon, let me go.”

Lewy huffs and lies down with an annoyed sigh whilst Jerome kicks into his leg lightly and leaves him alone, hurries with showering and changing into pyjamas.

By the time he gets back Lewy is snoring softly under the duvet, the full-blown allergy season makes his nose stuffed all the time. The lukewarm summer breeze blows through the open window and despite the pleasant summer scents Jerome closes it, Lewy doesn’t need more pollen for the night. He slides next to the sleeping figure carefully not to wake him up, but the bed creaks and Lewy opens his eyes. He blinks slowly and smiles with a sleepy gaze.

“Go back to sleep.” Jerome whispers and turns to his side to properly face his boyfriend.

Lewy keeps staring with drowsy blue eyes and parted lips, his hands move to grab Jerome’s shirt. He tugs at it and crawls closer, traps his own arms between their bodies.

“The bed is cold without you.”

Jerome’s heart skips a beat from the murmured words. He pecks Lewy’s chapped lips and strokes his back until he falls asleep in his arms, his heavy breathing blows warm air over Jerome’s face. In the last weeks he hasn’t been as calm as he is in this moment and Jerome cherishes the sight, hopes the mood will remain after they have left Warsaw.

Lewy stirs a little, hums in his sleep and Jerome realises something he doesn’t want to acknowledge, he doesn’t want to _feel_. Not so soon, not so much.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Robert, my darling. Finally!
> 
>  
> 
> My stupid exams are next week, the uploading of the 24th chapter is uncertain. I have half of it, but don't know when it will be finished. Until then, please cross your fingers for me! :D


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of a struggle with this chapter and I'm not satisfied, but the hell with it, here you go. (I still hope it isn't awful) :)

 

 

The next days pass in a rush of visiting the places where Lewy as much as took a step, at least it feels like that for Jerome. He has walked his legs off and even though it’s good that his boyfriend wants to share his stories, it can be overwhelming when he has to listen to embarrassing or really private ones about Anna and Lewy’s friends. On their second afternoon of “sightseeing” they visit Lewy’s old high school and sneak in to the football pitch where they eat the sandwiches Lewy stole from his mother in the morning and Jerome finally gets his well-deserved rest.

 “Do you want to know how I met my first crush?” Lewy asks abruptly as they are sitting in the well-kept grass with their legs tangled together.

“You’ve already told me how you met Anna in tenth grade.”

“No, not that… The first boy.”

“Oh.” Jerome grins when a faint blush creeps onto Lewy’s cheeks, then he shifts to lie on his back. “Sure, tell me about it.”

Lewy remains sitting and starts stroking circles on Jerome’s chest with his hand.

“I was seventeen and there was a student exchange in my school. I didn’t host, but Anna did and she always complained about her exchange partner. So you can imagine, it took only three days and the guy moved to my family’s house.”

“Anna always gets what she wants, right?” Jerome asks with a smile, he gathered enough from the stories to know that.

“You have no idea.” Lewy snorts. “Anyway, he moved in and I could just agree with Anna, he was annoying as hell, especially in the morning when he refused to get up until I poured a cup of water on his face. But… One night I was on my way to the bathroom when I heard quiet singing from his room and I couldn’t control myself, I went in and… he had a nice voice, you know, and I loved music since kindergarten. So we got closer after that and I realised soon enough that it was possible that I swung both ways.”

“Was it honestly a voice that caught you?”

The amusement in Jerome’s tone doesn’t go unnoticed and Lewy jumps on him, finds his ticklish spots with his fingers.

“Yeah, what’s the problem with that?”

“Nothing!” Jerome tries to wriggle out from under him, but his attempts are weak from the uncontrollable laughter bubbling out of him. “Nothing, I swear!”

They wrestle and roll around until Jerome finally has the upper hand and effectively pins Lewy’s wandering hands to the ground as they kiss.

“Did you meet with him later?” He asks after pulling away and Lewy nods.

There’s a moment of silence, then he says “That guy was actually Marco”.

“What?” Jerome blurts out, sitting up, and Lewy snickers.

“I know, I know.” He says, raising his hands in surrender. “As I said, he always had a great voice and he was really uhm… unique.”

“Did you two…?”

“God, no, never.” Lewy’s horrified answer leaves no doubt about its truth. “I needed, like, a week with him to realise what a fuckwit idiot he was and not a potential boyfriend.”

Jerome’s still gaping from the momentary shock as he takes Lewy’s hands, sways them side to side.

“Nothing happened? Not even a kiss?”

Lewy shakes his head. “We remained only friends and stayed in contact even after he went back home. I’ve always wanted to study in Germany and fortunately my German was good enough to get accepted to uni, so when it was time for a decision, I chose Dortmund of course. And you know the rest of it.”

“I know that Marco came in a pack with Mats and the whole band thing was his idea, but no details.”

“Well, it’s not really interesting.” Jerome rolls his eyes and Lewy smirks.

“Okay, if you insist… One day in first year I came home from the library to my wrecked apartment only to find Marco passed out on my couch. His parents kicked him out, saying it was high time for him to do something with his life. They expected him to get a decent job or at least apply to a college or something… And what did he do instead? Spent all his money on three guitars, found a place where they played live music and told us ‘Oh, by the way we’re going on stage on Friday, hope that’s okay with you guys’.”

“Crazy.”

Lewy laughs, straightens up so that Jerome is sitting on his lap. “The first period was difficult though and I don’t think we would have gotten through it without Anna. She released her first book, you know, the one I showed the other day.”

Jerome nods, winds his arms around Lewy’s neck.

“She said she needed new experiences after that and she came after me. A woman in the house had its advantages, not to mention that with her money my salary at the restaurant wasn’t the only thing we depended on.” Lewy sighs with a nostalgic expression. “It took one and a half year to reach real success and to be honest it was all Marco’s achievement. He gave everything into this and when something didn’t go quite well, he was affected the most. We’ve even seen him crying what I can hardly imagine now.”

“Does this mean he has feelings after all?”

“Maybe, somewhere deep under all those layers of vanity and bragging.” Lewy’s smile is full of fondness and Jerome can’t help, but mirror it. “And even though he usually acts like a negligent idiot, he’s a really great friend actually.”

“But Lewy, there’s a thing I can’t understand. How the hell can they be best friends with Mats? I mean, Marco’s like teaspoon in terms of sensitivity and Mats is a bag of tears, how can that fit together?”

Lewy laughs at that. “Good question. They were already together when I met them, so I have no clue how they found each other. But it must be some complementary attraction.”

They stay in comfortable silence for a while and Jerome moves to rest his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Baby?” Lewy hums and the vibrations run through Jerome’s body. “How are you?”

“Fine, though it would definitely be much better if…

“You know what I mean.”

Lewy sighs and holds on tighter. “I think I’m okay now.” He says, then kisses Jerome’s neck. Jerome really hopes he says the truth.

 

* * *

 

 

On their first weekend, they have been invited to a party along with _‘all the important people in town’_ and Jerome’s so reluctant to go that it leads to their first serious argument, which ends with a bitter truce and dead silence all the way to the event. Once there, they get surrounded by people who all attempt to butter up Lewy and don’t give a single look to the person he brought with himself. Not that Jerome minds the latter, but he feels uncomfortable from the very beginning amongst the crème de la crème of Warsaw when he’s done nothing in his life, nothing at all. After a while he drifts away from his boyfriend and goes to stand in a quieter corner, nursing his drink, and wishes the event ended soon.

Time to time he really wants to elbow himself back to Lewy and claim what’s _his_ , but there’re too many people there for them not to be extra cautious and Jerome won’t ruin anything with making a possessive scene or carelessly showing affection. Yeah, Lewy said he wanted to come out, but he hasn’t done it yet and that’s just another thing they have to talk about. He sighs, wills away those thoughts and turns to find the bar when somebody pokes his forearm and greets him in a cheerful voice.

“Hey stranger.”

Jerome turns and faces a woman who looks like the type he always admired, kind, strong and gorgeous without looking like a plastic surgery advertisement.

“You look lost here, want to have some company?”

She speaks _in German_ and it takes a moment for him to settle, but no, it can’t be…

“You’re Anna.”

“Took you long enough.” She laughs delightedly and punches Jerome’s shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Jerome.”

“You too.” He says as she gives him a hug and he really means it. Anna is charming, it’s not even bothering that she has already crowded into his personal space.

“How’d you recognise me?”

“You know, Robert has this tendency of speaking too much about the things he likes.” Jerome nods and watches as Lewy looks around confusedly, maybe realising after half an hour that Jerome’s not by his side.

“So he has been constantly sending me texts about how wonderful you are and I guess all the pictures he has secretly taken of you.”

Jerome gives her a wide-eyed look. “Photos of me.”

“Yeah.” Anna says, grinning. “It wasn’t hard to spot you after those.”

Jerome shakes his head and pinches his nose, but there’s a smile on his face as Anna takes a sip of her drink with a sly look.

“I agree with him by the way, a pitchfork tattoo on one hip is super cool.”

“Oh my god…” Jerome covers his face with his hands, because _seriously, Lewy_? Only Bastian and that bastard knew about the tattoo, and now it’s revealed to his ex-wife, great. Well, Jerome would have lived without that embarrassment, that’s for sure. Anna’s jingling laugh turns a few heads in their direction and he thanks his fate once again that his blush isn’t visible.

“He’s really busy at the moment, right?”

She gives him a knowing look and Jerome purses his lips as his eyes unconsciously wander back to Lewy and the blond, bearded man he’s currently talking with. They seem to be enjoying each other’s company _really_ much and Jerome can’t suppress a growl when the unknown guy puts a hand on Lewy’s shoulder and both of them break out in loud laughter.

“Don’t be afraid, they hate each other.”

“What?” Jerome turns his head so fast that his neck cracks in the process.

“That’s Kuba Błaszczykowski, a media mogul who was Robert’s classmate in high school.” She sighs, runs a hand through her shiny brown locks. “Those idiots may try to fool us, but just look how he shrugs off Kuba’s hand.”

She’s right, the gleam in Lewy’s eyes is absolutely displeased and after a more thorough look Jerome notices the way Błaszczykowski’s gripping his half-full glass.

“Who’s the other?”

“He’s Wojciech.”

“Oh, him I’ve heard of.”

“They were like best friends in high school, but after Lewy moved they drifted away.”

“I see.” There’s a short silence after that until Jerome actually takes in the outfit Anna’s wearing, the low cut black dress that doesn’t leave much to imagination. “I have seen some pictures about you, but, don’t get me wrong here, I expected you to be a bit more…”

“Dressed?” Anna turns to him with a grin. “You’re right, I usually wear things that cover a lot more.” She shrugs, grips Jerome’s elbow. “I feel kind of exposed to be honest, but there’s nothing that a good drink can’t solve, so come and get me a new one.”

She adds a wink and she has her way as always, because a minute later they are walking towards the bar.

 

Anna’s presence turns out to be a good distraction and two hours just fly by as they’re talking and drinking, maybe more than they should. Jerome almost forgets the original reason why he’s there when he feels a hand on the small of his back and Lewy’s mocking whisper close to his ear.

“Enjoying the party?”

He asks and Jerome turns, glares at him. “Not as much as you.”

There’s a sting in his words and Lewy’s eyes flash with a promise that they will talk – hopefully not argue – about this later. The hand disappears as Anna notices Lewy and jumps into his arms with a happy grin.

“I thought you would never leave those fuckers alone.” She scolds him as she pulls away from the embrace and Lewy winces.

“I wanted to, but new people kept coming and I had to…” He says it like an apology, eyes looking straight at Jerome, and sighs when there’s still no sign of forgiving despite that. “Never mind. I think it’s time for us to go.”

Anna looks disappointed, complains that she didn’t even have five minutes to talk with him, but Lewy just kisses her forehead, says they will meet up anyway when Anna comes back to Germany, and takes his leave with Jerome.

 

* * *

 

It would be an understatement that the car ride back home is tense. Jerome knows he’s acting stupid, but there are so many inappropriate thoughts running in his head that he almost feels nauseous, though the alcohol might have something to do with that too.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jerome turns to look out the window, watches as they speed through the well-lit streets of the city. “I’m just tired I guess.”

That’s all they say and Jerome holds back what bothers him inside, that he’s jealous and worried and can’t handle his realisation from the other night. The car comes to a halt twenty minutes later as they arrive and neither of them moves for a moment. Then Lewy takes a deep breath and slides a tentative hand over Jerome’s.

“I really feel bad about tonight. I shouldn’t have dragged you along or just… should have ditched the whole thing.”

“Yeah.”

It’s silent again for a while until Lewy leans over and kisses the corner of Jerome’s mouth. The gesture kind of takes all the winds out of Jerome’s sails and he can’t keep on sulking when Lewy whispers against his cheek.

“Are we good?”

“We are.” Jerome says and turns in his seat to kiss him. “Of course we are.”

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Marco do in the meantime?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: sexy times
> 
> I hope you guys still like the story, it's getting closer to the end. :)

 

 

**Marco's POV**

 

Marco has been taking videos all week. Initially he just wanted to record as Mario was making breakfast one morning, in a pair of faded shorts and a tank top, hair standing in every direction and soft humming falling off his lips. But he got distracted by a certain thigh muscle in the very beginning and from the exact moment the camera was in his hand, he wanted to film all their time together.

Since Mario didn’t let him book a super expensive holiday package to a jammed luxury island, Marco had to settle on sweating in parks under the burning summer sunshine in mostly effective disguise, searching for an opportunity to steal a kiss every minute of that damn torture.

But there were also some nice things, especially today when after a walk in the park they had a so called ice cream date. Marco bought a ball of every flavour, but eventually decided only those were good that he tasted straight from Mario’s mouth, much to the dismay of his boyfriend. The best was undoubtedly that Marco goaded Mario into getting his ears pierced with him and they ended up with similar pairs of studs in their lobes.

Anyway, what matters is that Marco had plenty of material to edit and upload to his video diary, which he did in record time after cutting out the part where he keeps praising Mario’s legs for ten long and pathetic minutes. He has just finished the work when Mario stirs beside him on the bed, waking up from the nap he started right as they arrived back to Mario’s place.

“Hey.” Marco says and combs his fingers through Mario’s hair.

Mario blinks slowly and nuzzles his sleepy face into Marco’s arm with a noise close to purring. He doesn’t move again for a while, but just as Marco thinks he dozed off again, Mario groans, shifts to sit next to his boyfriend and leans into his side.

“You didn’t even sleep?” Mario’s voice is groggy as his head drops to Marco’s shoulder and Marco finds it totally adorable.

“No, I had things to do.”

“What things?”

“Updating my website.”

Mario yawns, rubs his eyes. “Can I see the videos from today?”

“Sure.”

Marco’s mood gets even more blissful, he certainly didn’t think Mario would want to see the diary. He opens a page and turns the laptop in his lap so that Mario can have a better look. Mario’s eyes widen almost comically once he sees the screen and he grips Marco’s wrist.

“Marco.” He whines. “What have you done?”

Marco doesn’t really understand, he hasn’t done anything bad as far as he’s concerned.

“I just uploaded them to my video diary.”

Mario shakes his head, face losing colour.  “Did you make these public?”

“Er, yes.” He still doesn’t get it and decides to show the hit number under the current video instead of guessing what the problem is. “See, eight hundred people have watched the newest already.”

“But Marco, Jesus, they don’t know that you’re gay!” After his exclamation, Mario buries his face in Marco’s shoulder.

There’s a long pause, then Marco asks “So what? They know it now.”

Mario moves to stare at the increasing number of comments, tears welling in his eyes. “There will be hate.”

“You won’t hate me for this, will you?”

“Of course not.” The answer comes automatically, without faltering and Marco feels relieved again.

“Then who cares?” It’s not like he needs to make an announcement, he can do whatever the fuck he wants. If Mario’s okay with it, that’s it.

Marco turns back to the screen and clicks play, grins when Mario’s sunny face appears in the video, but after a glance back at the real Mario, the smile vanishes.

“I can take them off if you want me to.” He says in a low voice as he wraps an arm around his boyfriend and Mario exhales, runs a hand through his hair.

“No, too many people have seen them already. I just… didn’t expect this. At all.”

Marco closes the laptop carelessly, puts it aside and turns to cup his hands around Mario’s face.

“I can be with whomever I want.” He says, kisses Mario hard. “I love you.”

Mario is still a bit frozen, but he nods and wipes away the wetness rolling down his cheeks.  He kisses back the next time when their lips meet, fingers finding Marco’s after a moment. As they part, Mario gives him a shaky smile, then says he will take a shower to clean the mess on his face and freshen up to some extent. Marco contemplates about joining him, but in the end he figures Mario might need some alone time, so he stays in the bed instead and thinks over his ‘coming out’.

 

* * *

 

 

Mario comes back only in pyjama shorts and though he still doesn’t seem to be entirely comfortable like this, he isn’t that nervous now and Marco’s mouth drops open. Mario’s skin is flushed and damp from the shower and the garment is hanging a bit low on his hips, revealing his V-line and a thin trail of hair that Marco wants to trace along with his lips so much it hurts. Damn his lack of control, Marco’s sure his rapidly swelling bulge will rip his boxer shorts apart soon if it’s not going to be taken care of.

“Where’s the remote?” Mario’s absent-minded question makes Marco amused and for a moment he forgets to answer, too busy staring at the way Mario bends down to look under the TV stand.     

“No idea.” He says eventually, because he really doesn’t want to watch TV after all that, but his movements are not quick enough to grab the device from the bedside table and hide it, so he gets caught in the process.

After a roll of his eyes Mario jumps on the bed and tries to snatch it away from Marco, but his arms are shorter and he can’t reach it as Marco holds it as far as possible. Mario huffs at his own weak attempts, then settles back against the headboard, pouting. When he eventually glances up at him, Marco wiggles his eyebrows.

“Turn _me_ on instead.”             

Mario snorts and takes a knowing look at Marco’s crotch.

“I don’t need to do anything, you’re already turned on.”

Well, no chance for denying that, he’s pitching a quite spectacular tent down there. “True enough.”

The reaction he gets – or the complete lack thereof – isn’t what Marco expected and he’s even more surprised when Mario casually leans over, picks up his phone from the nightstand and starts playing a game, ignoring Marco entirely.

“Mario!”

“What’s it, love?” The smile can easily be detected in Mario’s voice as he asks back without looking up and _what the fuck_ , how can Marco get even harder?

“Won’t you do something about it?”                                                               

Now the little shit does look up with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Shall I?”

Marco narrows his eyes and pokes Mario’s chest. “Okay Sunny, not only you can tease.”

He crawls off the bed and goes out of the room, straight to the kitchen, hardly biting back a plaintive moan when he accidentally brushes a hand against his boner. He hears Mario’s curious voice, asking what he’s doing, but decides to ignore it as he starts rummaging around until he finds what he’s looking for. Apple-cinnamon pretzels.

Marco’s picking out a few pastries from the big bunch Mario keeps at home when he almost dies in a heart attack. A furry thing touches his calf and it feels like as if a couple of needles have been pricked into his flesh. He lets out a growl and picks up Woody from the floor, tearing the kitty’s claws out of his skin. The cat has emerged from nowhere, meowing like crazy, in hopes of some milk or a little snack, but no, Marco’s not the right man for him if he wants to get anything other than a reluctant pat on the head.

“Shut up.” Marco says after he put it down on a pile of laundry, then locks the cat in the washroom. He has other plans for the evening than petting kitties and watching sitcoms like grandpas with no libido.

He walks back into the bedroom and Mario turns all his attention to him in an instant, seeing the food in his hands. Marco plops down next to him and starts eating as obnoxiously as he can, and it takes him by surprise that Mr. Sweet Tooth sticks it out until he gets through his first half of a pretzel.

“Give me a bit.” Mario demands and crawls closer, tongue darting out to swipe across his lips.

Marco gives him a devilish grin and throws a big morsel into his mouth. “Nope.”

“Please.” The way Mario looks when he begs is one of the best things Marco has ever seen, he can’t say no to that face.

“The price is a kiss for a bite.”

“Deal.” Mario says, eyes not leaving the food for a moment.

Marco breaks off a tiny piece and makes circles with it in front of Mario’s face, earning himself a light smack and some muttered insults. He takes pity on his boyfriend – or maybe he’s a little afraid that the next slap will hurt – and puts the pretzel into Mario’s open mouth. After a few seconds of content chewing Mario swallows and looks at Marco expectantly.

“I want more.”

Marco laughs, pecks Mario’s sugar coated lips. They repeat the process a couple of times before Marco decides it’s time to go on with his seducing plan. Mario can hardly swallow the last mouthful when Marco has already leant over him, one hand holding him close by the hip.

“What… what are you doing?”

Mario’s fingers are carding through Marco’s hair and Marco lets out a quiet laugh, touches the goosebumps that spread on Mario’s skin from his breath.

“I didn’t say I will kiss you only on the mouth.”

His lips graze a nipple as he speaks and the next moment he presses down. Mario’s loud gasp echo in his ears as he teases him with his teeth and somewhere where he’s keeping track Marco’s grateful that Mario’s too far gone already to realise that sucking and biting is beyond the borderline of a kiss.

Because Marco is more than eager to get his nipples rosy and hard, those two sensitive spots on the smooth brown skin under his palms. He gets a hand in Mario’s underwear and squeezes his butt, decides they don’t need the pretzels anymore and throws them away, not caring at all, since Mario opens his legs, breath hitching in his throat. Marco takes the opportunity to settle between them and soon enough he lowers his whole body until they’re touching head to toe.

He moves back up to capture Mario’s sticky lips and fuck, Marco is leaking just from the moans he elicits. But just as he moves to Mario’s neck and starts really getting into it, Mario’s body trembles, then he breaks out in giggles and squirms in Marco’s arms. Marco pulls away, confused as hell.

“I hate your neckbeard, it tickles.” Mario says, still laughing and Marco almost feels ashamed. Almost. Because it’s not like he’s keen on that, in fact, he forgot where he put his shaving tools and well, that beard happened. But he won’t let it ruin his evening, no way, though it’s not really a danger that his erection begins to flag from anything.

“It’s your fault that you’re ticklish.”

Marco caresses the part of Mario’s neck that he scratched red, then pulls his shirt off and quietly enjoys the hungry look Mario’s giving him. He cups Mario’s cheeks again and they kiss until Marco slides a hand down to give Mario a few firm strokes.

“Sunny.” He breathes when Mario moves to return the favour. “Please turn… around.”

Mario stares at him with dilated pupils then takes a deep breath and obeys. Marco frees them from the last offending clothes as fast as lightning and leans over Mario, massages his back with gentle hands. When Mario starts relaxing again, Marco pulls out the lube and a condom from the bedside table, drops them on the sheets.

“You sure?” He asks, lips pressed to the sensitive skin behind Mario’s ear.

“Yes.” That’s all Mario says and Marco smiles, kisses his way down on Mario’s back. They’ve talked about doing this sometime during their ‘holiday’ and the funny thing is that it was _Marco_ who insisted on waiting.

He reaches that awesome butt, fuck Marco’s preferences that he finds it so attractive, kneads at it and dives in.

“Oh fuck, what are…”

Marco licks him again and Mario’s voice dies in a greedy moan, so fucking gorgeous. His body tenses and relaxes rhythmically under Marco’s hands as Mario just lies there, letting out soft whimpers, and gives him full control, what – to be honest – Marco loves right now.

But he doesn’t want to end the experience here, so he prods Mario to get on all fours, replaces his tongue with a finger slick with lube and starts preparing him. Getting Mario ready for his dick doesn’t take as long as he thought it would, maybe because his biting and kissing on Mario’s shoulder keeps him relaxed, and soon enough he takes out his fingers to roll on the condom.

“Careful, Marco...” Mario sounds a bit afraid for the first time this evening, but not less needy and Marco wants to get him so fucking much, wants to make him beg for pleasure until the only thing he knows is Marco’s name.

“Shh” Marco hushes him – along with his wild instincts - and positions himself. As he slides in, slower than ever with anybody else, he runs a hand over Mario’s back to soothe him. He groans as the tight heat envelops him and once he’s in to the hilt he can’t move for a second, afraid that he would lose it if he did.

“Fuck” He cries out as he starts thrusting and struggles to keep his eyes open to make sure his Sunny is okay. Mario’s speaking constantly, muffled words that mainly consist of Marco’s name and various ways of cursing, and Marco bites back a hiss, can’t believe how arousing he finds that.

He squeezes Mario’s hips and he knows there will be bruises, but later he will undoubtedly enjoy seeing a reminder of their lovemaking. Though Mario doesn’t say anything comprehensible, Marco understands everything, the way Mario’s thighs tense as he buries his face into the pillow and grips the sheets harder, not quite hard enough to rip them. _‘I’m close’_ it says.

Marco increases the speed, fighting against his own urge to release, and Mario’s moans become desperate gasps for air. He somehow manages to catch his breath enough to say _“Marco”_ and Marco shudders, hearing his name like this. Mario tenses all of a sudden and comes, clenching around Marco so tight that it’s impossible to keep control anymore. Marco’s eyes close and he loses the beat, his breath stutter-jumps familiarly and it’s over.

 

* * *

 

 

Long hours and a hot shower later they are cuddling close to each other, one of Marco’s hands on Mario’s hip, holding him as their eyes lock together.

“I love your fingers. They are so thin and long.” Mario whispers, runs his index finger along Marco’s other hand.

“And I love every single piece of you. Especially this.” Marco says and traces Mario’s smile with his thumb. “Sunny.”

“Marco.” Mario murmurs, sighs happily and brushes their noses together. “I still can’t believe this.”

“What?”

“Us.”

Marco smiles, tightens his hold on Mario. “There’s nothing out of ordinary in us. I’m just a guy who has no useful qualities aside his voice. It’s a sheer miracle that it brought enough money to buy four sports cars.”

“Four?” Mario asks incredulously with a grin. “But you don’t even have a license.”

Marco pretends to be hurt. “Hey, I’m on it, okay?”

Mario snickers and they kiss lazily until the harsh sound of a phone breaks it.

“Ignore it.” Marco says, but Mario pecks his lips and reaches over. He reads the text message he received as Marco entertains himself with exploring the underside of Mario’s jaw with his mouth.

“It’s from Fabian, my older brother.”

Marco hums, not really registering what Mario says, yet alone his strange tone. “He says.” Marco feels Mario gulp. “He has seen your videos.” Marco freezes at that and Mario moves to look at him. “He will drop by tomorrow to check on me and wanna have a talk with you.”

Mario’s brother. Wants to talk. With him.

“Oh shit.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, I was really tired when I finished this.


End file.
